


Harrison Alistair and the Philosopher's Stone

by MysticWolfShadows



Series: Harrison Alistair [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendly Harry, Hogwarts First Year, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Lonely Harry, Snape is not evil, The Sorting Hat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-10-06 06:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17340365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticWolfShadows/pseuds/MysticWolfShadows
Summary: The first year begins, and Harry's life is thrown into chaos by everything that happens at school. Wasn't Hogwarts supposed to be fun?





	1. The Letter

At the end of the terribly boring summer, Harry was more then ready for it to be over. 

After the fight at the Summer Gala, Mama had grounded him. She never did tell him who exactly he had been fighting, but whoever it was seemed to have been important. But while he was grounded, he had to spend most of his time either getting lectured by Derrick in ‘the superior art of potions making, pay attention Harry, this is more delicate then silly cooking’, or in the library reading magic theory and history books. It was so boring, and he ready so much, he felt like by the time he actually got to Hogwarts, he could just sleep through his classes. 

The second to last of July, the letters came. They had been sitting down to lunch, Harry glad to be out of the books, with Nina grumbling at what looked like some kind of sports plans and Skyla covered in paint. The elves brought the owls, handing them out to who they belonged to. Much to Harry’s surprise, he had two. 

__ Mr. H. Potter   
East Second floor Wing   
Red Room   
Alistair Family Manor

__ Mr. H. Alistair   
East Second floor Wing   
Red Room   
Alistair Family Manor

Seeing the two letters, Harry held them out to Mama, knowing that she would know what to do. She did, like always, and set off with the one that said Potter and leaving the Alistair one behind. He opened the letter, looking it over as he ate his lunch. 

__ Mr. Harrison Alistair   
East Second floor Wing   
Red Room   
Alistair Family Manor

__ Dear Mr. Alistair,   
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.   
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.   
Yours sincerely,

_ Minerva McGonagall   
Deputy Headmistress _

Under the letter was a list of things he would need for school, which he skimmed over. He’d… actually already read some of them, or at least skimmed through them. Welp, it looked like his boring summer was going to lead into a boring few first days, maybe weeks, of school. He supposed he only had himself to blame… After all, he was the one that pushed that boy… It was wrong, even if the boy deserved it. 

After lunch, since he didn’t really have anything else to do, Harry went to the library to read some of the books on his supply list. He’d skimmed most of  _ A History of Magic _ , but he was more interested in  _ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _ ., since the library was mostly organized more like a bookstore, with subject first and authors name second. The history section was mostly towards the front, with potions, herbology, and transfiguration. Defense and dark arts books were in the back, but still before deviation. 

Now with reason to go into the back, Harry went to the back to search the dark arts section for  _ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _ . He found a few interesting books, ones he was kind of interest in, like  _ Art of Darkness: Secrets of Night Spells _ and  _ Greatest Spells, Dishonorable Mentions _ . There was also a history book,  _ Salazar Slytherin, History of a Founder _ , was also on the shelf. Harry grabbed all three, since he figured that he could at least give them a look when he was done with the Dark Forces book. But he had to find it first, and since it wasn’t in the dark arts section, he guessed it was in the defense section. 

With all four books in hand, Harry hummed as he started reading through the books. Honavi and Nikoa, now just over a foot, were just as bored as he was, curled around his neck and shoulders as he quietly read aloud to them. Since he didn’t have a wand yet, he mostly just skimmed the actual spells, and read about the creatures. Apparently there were zombies in America! 

As the day went on, and the sun got lower, Harry was putting most of the books back, but kept the book about Salazar Slytherin to read later. After all, Slytherin had been one of the people to make the school he would be going to, and the founder of Papa’s house. It would be nice to know a little more about him, just in case he was placed in Slytherin. The book ended up on his desk, next to his stack of letters from Ron and his snake books and journal. 

At dinner, Mama explained about the letter she sent back to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Dumbledore, as well as the Deputy Headmistress, McGonagall. The basic gist of it was that Harry had been adopted and had changed his name. They would have to wait for a letter back, but it should be fine, since she’d sent Harry’s return letter with it. 

XxXXxX

They went to Diagon Alley in mid August. It was probably the most exciting thing to happen all summer since the Gala. There had, of course, been his birthday, but they hadn’t done much. Just cake with those in the house, and some presents that were sent to him from family. He got a box of fudge from Mrs. Weasley, along with a note from Ron with when he and the other Weasleys would arrive at the train.  

The first thing they did in Diagon Alley was go to Gringotts. It was just Harry and Mama, since Papa went with Nina and Skyla to get their things. Harry was a bit to distracted with the goblins to be to curious about what was going on until he heard Mama mention his name. 

“We’re also here to visit my sons vault, under the name Harry Potter, as well as change the name,” Mama told the goblin at the counter, and a few wizards that were there were turning to look in their direction. Harry squirmed, moving closer to Mama’s side, worrying about the sudden eyes of strangers on him. She let her hand land on his head, gently smoothing his hair to calm him. Mama always knew what to do. 

“Do you have the key as proof of ownership?” the goblin asks, and Harry feels the hand on his head stop. 

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Mama said, her voice low and serious. “Since it was a trust vault and the key to those aren’t supposed to be given until after the age of eleven. Is the key not in your possession?” 

The goblin cleared his throat, looking around, and actually began to sweat. Harry turned with him, trying to see what the goblin saw, and was surprised that he did. The eyes of all the wizards and witches were on them. And whatever was happening, it wasn’t something good. 

“Perhaps we could speak privately,” the goblin suggested, uncomfortable. “We can discuss this in a meeting room?” 

Mama agreed, and they were suddenly whisked away to a room where Harry had to sit quietly as Mama shouted and demanded to know what had happened to the key to Harry’s vault. The goblins try to appease her by promising to reimburse her for any funds that were missing. It didn’t work, not one bit, and the name was eventually given. 

“The key was given to an Albus Dumbledore,” the head goblin eventually said. 

Mama fell silent, lips pursing as she took in a deep breath. “I want all the contents of that vault moved into a vault, a new one, with a new key. And I want this to be done before the end of the day, or I’ll be taking this straight to the Prophet.” 

The goblins are more then ready to agree, and they even offer to let them come down to see the vault being moved. Harry is surprised with just how much is there. Sure, the Alistair’s were rich, but he’d only been with them for over a year. Surely, they hadn’t started his trust fund with so much already in it. With a tug on Mama’s shirt, he asked why there was so much. And, even though she was uncomfortable, she explained that it was a gift from his birth parents. From James and Lily Potter. 

Harry doesn’t ask for more then that, and they take a pouch filled with Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. It was just for if he saw anything he wanted while out. And, with Mama pleased with the Goblin’s work, they went back up to the alley and started to head for Madam Malkin’s. Mama agreed to go get his supplies while he got fitted, so they could immediately head to get his books. So he went inside, looking around as he let one of the seamstress’s lead him to a stool to stand on as she worked. 

There was another boy on another stool next to his. He was only a little taller then Harry, with silvery blond hair that looked awfully familiar, but Harry honestly couldn’t place where. While Harry was waiting on the stool for the measurements to be done, the other boy turned to look at him. 

“Do I know you?” the boy asked, a frown on his face. 

Harry turned to look at him. “No, I don’t think so. I’m Harry.” 

The boy hummed. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I suppose you’ll be going to Hogwarts as well?” 

Malfoy… So this was the son Mrs. Malfoy wanted him to meet... “Yeah,” Harry shrugs, but only got the seamstress to scold him. 

“Mother and Father are next door getting my books,” Draco drawled, “though Mother may be looking at wands now. Once I’m finished here, I’ll try to drag them off to look at racing brooms. Maybe I can smuggle in a broom. Honestly, I don’t see why first years aren’t allowed to have their own. Do you have a broom?” 

“Yes,” Harry said, side eying Darco as he thinks. Draco must not have been told what he looks like… 

“Play Quidditch at all?” 

“No.” 

“Really?” Draco asked. “You are one of our kind aren't you? I thought anyone who could afford a broom would play Quidditch.” 

“‘Our kind’?” A frown slid into place on Harry’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Your parents. They were wizards, yes? Not some filthy muggles or unworthy mudbloods- ow!” The boy jumped and pouted down at the seamstress who just kept working, pretending like she didn't just stab him with the pin on purposed. Huh… “Anyway, what house do you think you’ll be in?” 

“I really don’t know,” Harry said, trying his best to not move when he saw his sisters walk by though the window of the shop. 

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they? But I know I'll be in Slytherin. All of my family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff! I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?” 

With a frown and a pointed look, Harry made sure Draco was looking right at him as he spoke. “My mother and three of my brothers were in Hufflepuff.” 

“Oh…” Draco pursed lips, gaining a rather bored look. “Your father to, then? Suppose you’ll be following in their footsteps.” 

“Papa was a Slytherin,” Harry corrected. “My family just has a lot of different kinds of people in it.” 

“Large family then? You mentioned three brothers.” 

“I have six brothers and six sisters. And nine nieces and nephews, but I just call them my cousins because most of them are close to my age.” 

“Merlin’s beard!” Draco gasped. “I thought only the Alistair’s had a family that large.” 

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed. Before Draco could say anything, Madam Malkin told him he was done, and he stepped off the stool to find Mama already waiting by the counter. He smiled, walking over to her and watching as she paid for the clothes before taking her hand and leaving the shop. 

Their final stop for the day was to get Harry a wand at Ollivanders. Marissa was there, already with a wand of her own. Her wand was made of pine, with a Phoenix feather core. Her and Dorian agreed to stay while Harry got his wand, since Dorian needed to sit for a while anyway. Mama sat with him as Harry went to the counter. 

Ollivander was a strange old man, and while Harry thought he was strange, he did want to be ready for school. He was given a few different ones to try, before he finally was given one that Ollivander seemed alright with. But he acted very strange the entire time. Saying how things were 'curious’ and cutting himself off every now and then before Mama finally said that they needed to go. 

As they went to the Floo point, Mama made a few final plans with Dorian for the first. The family would all meet at the house in the morning to say goodbye until the holidays, and only Mama and Dorian would go to the platform with the children, since it would be Harry and Marissa's first year. 

When they finally got back to the house, Mama said that Harry didn't need to be grounded anymore. He would spent the last two weeks doing everything he could with his family. He wouldn't have time later, when he was busy with school. 


	2. Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry leaves to go to Hogwarts.

When Harry woke up on the first, he felt like he hadn't slept at all. He was so excited, jittery with excitement as he threw off his blankets to hop out of bed. He had packed and repacked his trunk over and over the night before, until Mama told him to go to bed. Nikoa and Honavi were excited, since Harry was planning to smuggle them in. Hedwig was also going, but she would mostly be for sending letters, even though Harry still loved her. 

After hurriedly getting dressed, Harry rushed down the stairs to join Mama and the rest of the family in the dining room. Dizzy was crazier then ever, and Harry swore he saw tears in the house elves eyes as they popped in and out of the room. Taking his seat, he leaned over to Marissa. 

“What's going on with the elves?” Harry whispered, catching Tikki pop in next to him and deposit french toast onto his plate with a wet sniffle. “Are they… okay?” 

“When it's someone's first year,” Marissa started, mouth full of food, “the family comes to the house to say goodbye and good luck. The last time we did this was for Skyla, four years ago. It's mostly because they won't see us for a while. Mostly you, though, cuz you live here.” 

“Oh,” Harry blinked, leaning back in his seat as he ate his french toast. It was just as good as always. Now, though, it seemed like it was special… “Do you think we'll be in the same house?” 

“No,” Marissa said. “I mean, it would be cool, but we probably won't.” 

“Why not?” 

“Dad won't tell me anything about how the sorting works, and neither will anyone else, but I think whatever it is, it has something the do with what we want?” She shrugged. “Jasper’s not great at keeping secrets, since he doesn't want to lie, so instead he asked what I wanted. It's the closest I got to an answer.” 

Harry thought on that as they ate their breakfast. What did he want? Well, he wanted to make his family proud… Mama said that she would love him and be proud of him no matter what, but he wanted to earn it. But how? What could he do that would be good enough? His family was filled with greatness: Dorian's short but famous Quidditch career, Russell's music, Freya and her dragon, and so on. How could he stand beside the titans that were his siblings? 

When it was time to go, Harry took a minute to double check his trunk. He had his new robes, his school books, and school supplies, but he also had a few treats for Hedwig that would keep until winter, and some things for Nikoa and Honavi. The snakes slid into his shirt, heads resting at his shoulder, while their tails gently draped down his back. He said goodbye to the rest of them, though they were mostly asleep. 

Taking his trunk, Harry went down the stairs to rejoin his siblings and cousins in the dining hall. The only adults going were Mama and Dorian, but they were soon through the Floo and Harry found himself staring up at the scarlet train and bustling platform. It was as filled as Diagon Alley, with people hugging and crying as children went onto the train. Mama kissed his cheek, told him to be good, and made him promise to sit in a window seat where she could see him when the train left. Not that it mattered, since it took ten minutes to get on the train, with Mama repeatedly trying to stop them to wipe nonexistent dirt off his face or fixing his collar. 

When he finally got on the train, seated with Hedwig nestled in his lap, Harry pulled out one of his books. He had a two on creatures, and the three books he'd gotten from the Dark Arts section of their library. He was mostly looking through the book about Salazar Slytherin. He thought that it was pretty interesting, telling about Salazar’s involvement in the last muggle-wizard war. 

“What are you doin’ with that?” 

Harry paused, looking up from his book to find Ron standing at the now open door to the compartment, staring in wide eyed shock. For a moment, Harry wasn’t sure what Ron was talking about. Hedwig was still settled in his lap, and Nikoa and Honavi were still hidden under his shirt. So Ron must have been talking about the book… 

“Reading?” Harry said, though it was filled enough confusion to make it sound like a question. 

“But  _ why _ ?” Ron asked, moving to sit in the seat across from Harry, though he moved as though the book was poisonous, and leaned back in his seat. “How did you even get something like that?” 

“Something like… this?” Harry frowned and closed the book, holding it up to look at the cover. He’d thought it was pretty. The book itself was a deep emerald green, with an etching of the Slytherin crest on the front in silver, but the title made in a smooth black that slightly raised from the cover of the book. “It was in our library. I found it while I was looking for a copy of one of our school books.” 

“Your parents keep dark artifacts in the same place as school books?” Ron breathed, actually recoiling from the book as if it would attack him. 

“Dark artifacts?” Harry snorted. “Ron… It’s a book. One that tells part of our history. Don’t you think that’s… important?” 

“Not if it’s that book.” 

With a frown that definitely wasn’t a pout, Harry decided to put the book away and instead pull out a set of cards. He and Ron would play for a few hours, waiting for the train to come to a stop. They got some treats from the trolly as it passed. Well, Harry did, but he shared with Ron. In the chocolate frog card he got, he found an image of an Albus Dumbledore. This was the man that had somehow gotten the key to his trust vault… The headmaster of their school… 

Shaking off the thought, Harry continued on to trying some of the Every Flavor Beans. Right off the bat, he got coppery taste, and he spit it out, nose scrunched up. Hedwig hooted and pecked at it, but she seemed to discard it just as fast as he did. 

“Excuse me,” a girl suddenly said as she threw open the door to their compartment. “But a boy named Neville has lost a toad. Have you seen it?” 

“No,” Ron said, rather rudely. True, the girl had just barged into their compartment, but that didn’t mean that he had to be rude. 

“Sorry,” Harry quickly added. “We’ll come find you if we do see it.” 

Ron gave Harry a confused look, but the girl smiled at him and nodded. She turned to leave, but paused, turning to look at Ron. 

“Oh,” she said, smiling just a bit. “You have a bit of dirt on your nose.” 

And with that, the girl was hurrying off down the car to continue her search for the toad. Harry couldn’t hold in a snort as Ron vigorously rubbed at his nose, glaring down at it. He shot Harry a look, but it only made Harry snicker more, covering his mouth with his hand. Well… Ron had kind of deserved it… 

They had barely gotten back to their candy and cards when the compartment was opened once again. This time, though, Harry recognized the one who had opened it. It was the Malfoy boy, the one he’d seen at Madam Malkin’s. He had two other boys with him, both big and with rather vacant looks in their eyes, standing like some kind of bodyguards. They looked… vaguely familiar… 

“Alistair,” Draco Malfoy said, voice smooth and calm as he smirked at Harry. “Good to see you again.” 

“Malfoy,” Ron sneered before Harry could speak again. “What do you want?” 

“Weasley,” Draco snarled. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have something better to do besides begging for galleons from high society wizards?” 

“Hey,” Harry cut in, getting up to stand as threateningly he could when he had to look up at Malfoy. “Ron is my friend, and if you talk to him like that again…” 

It was in that moment that Harry felt the oddest sense of deja vu. His mind went searching for why, and he found it rather quickly… The Gala… The boy Harry had attacked… That had been Draco Malfoy? Oh Merlin… 

Draco seemed just as surprised, though he seemed to grow pale with horror rather then shock. He hadn’t realized that Harry had been the one to attack him either. 

“I must say,” Malfoy said slowly. “I didn’t realize that it had been you that I had been talking to that night. I hadn’t expected one of the Alistair horde to be associating with a Weasley.” 

“Ron’s my friend,” Harry said again, this time with more fire then before. He could feel Honavi and Nikoa getting anxious under his shirt, just like the night of the gala. “We’re all people. Where we come from doesn’t change that.” 

His fists were shaking, clenched so tightly he could feel his knuckles turn white. The two bigger boys seemed to notice, and moved to step forward, only for Malfoy to stop them. The blond took a deep breath, and seemed to straighten. 

“For the sake of the continued relations between our two families,” Malfoy said, words careful and calculated. “I will watch myself. Not overstep any…” He glanced pointedly at Ron. “Any boundaries. That is, if you do the same, Alistair?” 

Malfoy held out his hand, and Harry eyed it carefully. He glanced at Ron, who stared at them with wide eyes, and shook his head. But… His Mama had said that his relationship with Draco would affect the relationship between their two families… And from the way Papa had spoken at times, it had sounded like it was a long history of good relations. So if he could get along with Draco… 

“Call me Harry,” he said as he took Draco’s hand to shake it. “It gets confusing when people call me Alistair, and my brothers. And sisters. And parents.” Harry smiled, hoping the joke wasn’t to much. 

Draco smirked, and nodded, giving Harry’s hand a good shake before pulling his hand back and stepping out of the compartment. “The train will be arriving soon, by the way. You’d best get changed into your robes, Harry.” He paused before he left, and gave Ron a sharp nod, then walked away, his two guys trailing after him. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, face screwed up. “It was like watching someone make a deal with the devil!” 

“Ron,” Harry chastised. “I expect you to be nice, just like him.” 

“Fine, whatever,” Ron grumbled, getting up to rummage in his trunk while Harry did the same. 

Draco had been right about the train arriving soon. Not long after they had gotten changed, Harry heard the older students start walking down the cars, calling for everyone to get off. Harry listened to the orders, following everyone outside as a large man was calling for all the first years. Marissa popped up beside him, grinning as she waved and walked to a boat with a dark skinned boy that looked oddly familiar and a pair of twin girls. 

Harry ended up in a boat with Ron, the girl who had opened their compartment earlier, and a boy who looked rather distraught. Harry made a guess that this boy was Neville. 

When they finally reached the massive castle, they were greeted by an older woman with a pointed hat and spectacles. Then, after a quick speech, she led them into a grand dining hall. They walked down the center of the room, Harry searching all through the room for his sisters and cousin. He found Skyla on the far left table, under a table with a red banner, while Nina and Jasper were on the right side of the room. Jasper was also near the wall, under what Harry recognized as the yellow banner of his mothers house. Nina was actually in the table closest to him, sitting on the side he was walking past, and she gave him a reassuring grin and a gentle thump on the shoulder with her fist. 

“Abbott, Hannah,” the professor called once she reached the stool at the front. 

As the first girl went up, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt someone nudge him. He turned, finding Marissa beaming at him. He smiled back, though more nervous then his cousin. 

“Blake, Marissa,” the professor called out once the Hannah girl was on her way to Hufflepuff. 

Harry blinked, and Marissa looked at him in surprise. If they were going by last names, Harry should have been next… Marissa gave him a curious look, and he shook his head. No… He wanted to see how this played out. So Marissa made her way up up to the stool. The hat was placed on her head, and Harry watched as the hat seemed to have some kind of argument with her before calling out Ravenclaw. 

He watched as more people were called. He didn’t know many of them, but he paid attention to the ones he had at least noticed before. The two boys that had been with Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, were sorted into Slytherin, while the girl who had been helping Neville, Hermione Granger, was sorted into Gryffindor. Neville soon followed her, and Draco was placed in Slytherin before the hat could even do much more then touch his hair.  The twin girls Marissa had been with earlier were split apart, one in Ravenclaw and one in Gryffindor. 

“Harry,” Ron whispered as he finally caught on to the strangeness of Harry’s presence in the crowd of unsorted first years. “Shouldn’t you have been called by now?” 

All he could do was shrug, eyeing the hat and the professor curiously. Was it some kind of trick? A trap? 

Then, the professor seemed just as confused as him as she called out the next name. “Potter, Harry?” 


	3. The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets sorted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but don't worry. The other chapters will be longer, and the next one should come out fairly soon.

“Harry Potter?” the professor called once more as she looked through the crowd of first years. 

All around them, people were starting to whisper, older students standing at their tables to try and peer over other students heads. Harry, meanwhile, glanced at Ron, who was looking at Harry with confusion. 

“I thought you said you were coming here as an Alistair,” Ron whispered, almost accusingly. 

“I am,” Harry whispered back, ignoring as the professor called his old name again. “I’m an Alistair now. Sure, I don’t want to forget my Potter heritage, but that’s not who I am. I’m not the Boy Who Lived. I’m just a member of the Horde. And I want to make a name for myself that’s all my own. Not follow a path that was made when I was a baby.” 

Ron seemed to think on this, as the professor pulled out a quill and circled the name on her page. Then, she moved onto the next name, calling up a Dean Thomas. There were still mutters all around them, though, and when Harry glanced at the headmaster, Dumbledore had a strange look. 

“Do you think I could be a Gryffindor like my family?” 

Harry turned, blinking in surprise. “Ron… You don’t have to be like your parents or your brothers. They may be brave and bold Gryffindors, but you’re something better then just some brave and bold Gryffindor.” 

“What could be better then being brave and bold?” Ron scoffed. 

Not able to help it, Harry reached forward and placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Ron, you’re a true friend.” 

For a moment, Ron just stared at him. Then, Ron brought a hand up to his mouth, shoulders shaking as he ducked his head. Harry thought he might be crying, but then he heard the muffled snorts of laughter. 

“Thanks, Harry,” Ron said as he composed himself, smiling at Harry. 

“Weasley, Ronald,” the professor called. 

With a grin, Ron bumped Harry’s shoulder with his own, then made his way up to the stool, leaving Harry alone with the dark skinned boy he’d seen Marissa with earlier. Giving Ron a grin, Harry waited for the hat to call out its answer. Then, loud and certain, the hat called out. 

“Hufflepuff!” 

There was a split second of silence, and Harry turned to look towards the Gryffindor table to find Ron’s brothers. And just as Harry caught sight of them, the twins lept from their seats, cheering loudly as the Hufflepuff welcomed their new badger. Ron grinned, almost sheepishly, as he went to the table, moving to sit next to Jasper, who smiled warmly. 

“Zabini, Blaise,” the professor called, then seemed to do a double take as the boy next to Harry made his way to the stool. She glanced from Harry to the paper, dropping the had onto Zabini’s head rather absently as she tried to figure out what had happened. When the hat called out Slytherin, the professor cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, but can you tell me your name? There aren’t any more on my list.” 

Harry stepped forward, ignoring the whispers behind him, even as they filled his ears. 

“Is that Potter?” 

“Is he going to do something?” 

“Why didn’t he say anything?” 

“I’m Harrison Alistair,” Harry said, doing his best to be polite. “My mother sent you a letter covering… my name?” 

“Yes,” the professor said, nodding quickly with a smile, though she still seemed confused. “Yes, I remember. There must have been a mistake on my list. Have a seat.” 

Harry nodded gratefully, and hopped up onto the stool. He made himself comfortable, looking out over the crowd as the professor repeated his name, and set the large hat on his head. The rim flopped over his eyes, and Harry blinked. 

_ “Hmm, difficult,” _ the hat hummed in his mind.  _ “Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes. And a nice thirst to prove yourself, and no wonder... So where shall I put you?” _

For a moment, Harry just sat and waited, wondering if he was meant to say something. Marissa said something about it maybe having something to do with what you wanted. Maybe he was meant to ask? But he didn’t know where he should go. That’s what the hat was for. 

_ “Nothing to say?” _ the hat asked.  _ “Hm… You could make allies in Gryffindor, you know. But you already have some in Hufflepuff. You could take it easy, there. So many who would not care for who you are… Ravenclaw would test your mind. Test how you think and feel. And Slytherin… You could be great, you know. It’s all here in your head. And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.” _

Greatness? Harry thought. Did the hat mean… Slytherin could help him make his family proud?  

_ “Interesting… So it better be…  _ Slytherin!”

The hat was plucked from his head, as the hall cheered. Though, Nina cheered and whistled as he blushed and sheepishly shuffled his way to the table. His sister wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him close as he sat down beside her, across from Draco. But, before the cheering could quiet down, a shiver ran down his spine, and Harry turned to look at the staff table. Dumbledore was giving him a strange look. 

But before Harry could point it out to Nina, and ask questions, the Headmaster was standing, his eyes scanning over all of the tables as the room went silent once more. 

“Welcome,” Dumbledore said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.” 

And with that, food appeared on every plate, much like it did at home. House elves, busy at work, he supposed. He hummed as he had his plate filled with potatoes and meatloaf. It was simple, compared to the elaborate dinners of home, but it was still better then anything he’d had at the Dursley’s. Anything was better then the Dursley’s… 

“He’s a bit mad, isn’t he?” Harry mused as he ate his potatoes. “Dumbledore, I mean.” 

“Quite,” Draco agreed. “Father says that he should be sent to Saint Mungo’s.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Nina said, frowning at Draco curiously. “Though, he is getting rather old. Should probably retire sooner rather then later.” 

Harry hummed, eating more as he listened to the conversations around him. As desert arrived, so did the house ghosts. The Bloody Baron appeared next to Draco, eyes fixed straight ahead and making Draco nearly jump out of his skin. Nina told them what she knew, which wasn’t much. Just that he had done something that got him covered in blood before he died, and carried the chains as penance. He was also the one to call if Peeves was getting to be to much. 

For the second time that night, a shiver ran down Harry’s spine. Suspecting Dumbledore, Harry turned toward the staff table. Only, Dumbledore was absorbed in talking to a rather upset looking McGonagall. With a frown, Harry let his eyes continue down the line of teachers and faculty, past a short goblin man and the giant like man that had led the first years across the boat. And then, finally, his eyes landed on two teachers at the end. One with a turban wrapped around his head, and the other Harry recognized as Derrick’s Potions Master Snape. 

And then the shock went through his forehead. Sucking in a hiss, Harry pressed the heel of his hand to his covered scar, curling in towards the table as it felt like someone had pressed a branding iron to Harry’s forehead. But just as quick as it had come, it was gone, and Harry found Nina staring at him in concern. 

“Harry?” she asked, voice soft with a gentleness he loved, but still hard and stern with urgency. “What happened? What’s wrong with your head?” 

“It just hurt,” he said, rubbing at the scar and hoping that the glamour would be enough to hide it until bed, since his scrubbing has probably cleared away a lot of the foundation that covered it the muggle way. “It’s fine…” 

“But that’s never happened before,” Nina pressed, frowning deeply as she pulled his hand away to look at the now smudged mark. “You may be tired… It’s been a long day, and very exciting. Maybe you should go to bed.” 

Harry wanted to argue, but he was feeling rather tired. Honavi and Nikoa squirmed under his shirt, concerned as Nina got up and helped him up. He felt a little dizzy, actually, and leaned on her as she led the way to the Slytherin Common Room. When she opened the door to what must be his dorm, she led him up to a bed that had his trunk at the bottom and helped him lay down. By the time his head had hit the pillow, he was sound asleep. 

XxXXxX

The next morning, Harry woke with a jerk as his room was suddenly filled with the voices of other boys. He sat up, blinking sleep out of his eyes, and frowning as he tried to figure out what was happening. Before him was a room filled with shades of rich green, elegant and strong. It reminded him of his Papa… 

There were five other boys in the room with him. There was, of course, Draco Malfoy and the two larger boys from the train, as well as the boy who had been sorted right before him. The last boy was sitting cross legged on his own bed, a book spread out on his lap. Harry couldn’t remember what his name was, but he supposed he would have to learn. 

“Harrison,” Draco said, spotting him sitting up. “Finally, you’re awake. I’m heading up for breakfast. Will you be joining me?” 

“Yeah,” Harry yawned, reaching for his glasses. “Just give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll walk with you.” 

“You’re going to breakfast… like that? Really, Harrison! Shower and groom yourself properly, Merlin’s beard. We’ll just meet you up in the Great Hall.” Before Harry could protest, Draco was striding to the door. “Come on, Crabbe, Goyle.” 

With a sigh, Harry pushed his glasses into place and ran a hand through his hair. Well, if he had time, he supposed that he should shower and get dressed properly. Even if it didn’t work, he could at least try to take a comb through his mess of hair. Only Mama seemed to be able to tame it… And, now that he was thinking about Mama, she had given him some coverup to mask his scar… He should do that before someone saw… 

“Alistair,” Zabini said, gaining Harry’s attention. “Think you got something on your forehead…” 

“It’s nothing,” Harry said quickly, getting up out of bed and going to his trunk to grab everything he needed. “I’m heading to the showers. Shouldn’t be long, but if either of you head up to breakfast before me, tell Draco I’ll only be a few minutes.” 

“Nott’s probably not moving anywhere until he’s finished that book,” Zabini said while quite literally waving away Harry’s remark. “And do you think I look this fabulous naturally? Well, I do, but I can’t let anyone else know, or they’ll just be that jealous! Isn’t that right, Theodore?” 

Theodore Nott hummed absently, and turned the page in his book, not even looking up. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at the huff Zabini gave, and slipped into the bathroom to get ready for his first day of class. 


	4. Potions Class

True to Zabini’s word, Harry was up to breakfast before either of his housemates. He left them to their own devices, instead going to take his seat next to Nina and across from Draco. 

“There you are little brother,” Nina said with a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you! Got your schedule for you.” 

He took it gratefully, absently reaching to scoop eggs onto his plate as he looked it over. Seemed like he would have Potions first this morning, and then Herbology. After such a long summer with Derrick, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to Potions, but he wasn’t really dreading it either. He was just a little sick of the subject. 

Nina went on and on, explaining more about each class and the teacher that taught the subject, though Harry wasn’t that interested. He would rather eat and go meet the teachers himself. He could make a better judge of their character that way. But it was good to know that Professor Snape was their Head of House. He was the one that he would have to go to if he had any problems. He could trust Professor Snape. 

XxXXxX

Harry wasn’t sure what exactly he had been expecting for Potions. 

After breakfast, Harry had to stop by the dorm room to get his books from his trunk and feed Nikoa and Honavi. They had agreed to let Harry go to his first classes alone, let him get settled and knowing what classes he could get away with sneaking them into, but they agreed mostly because he said that they could explore while he was away. But once the two had been fed, and Harry put the right books into his bag, he barely had enough time to make it to the Potions classroom, even if the Slytherin Common Room was so close. 

He was on time to class, but almost all the seats were taken on what seemed like the Slytherin side of the room. Zabini was seated next to Draco in the back, and Crabbe and Goyle were seated in front of them. The Slytherin girls were all clustered into pairs towards the front, with the exception of Nott paired with a girl in the very front row. The Gryffindor side of the room was also fairly full, with everyone also paired up. 

Except for one girl. 

Harry moved, quite easily, into the seat next to bushy haired girl he had sort of met on the train. She glanced up at him, studying him for a moment, before giving a friendly nod and turning to the front of the room as Professor Snape seemed to glide into the room. The Professor started off with attendance, first calling the Gryffindors with a bit of a sneer with each name. It gave Harry a moment to look around the room, being reminded of Derrick’s potions lab back at the house. And to also catch Draco’s confused and somewhat betrayed gaze. Harry just shrugged, and tuned in just in time to hear the Professor call out the bushy haired girls name. Hermione Granger… Maybe Harry could be her friend to? 

When Professor Snape moved to start calling the Slytherin  side of the room, he paused at the first name. Harry’s. 

“Harrison Alistair,” Professor Snape sneered, seeming to shock everyone with the disgust behind it. But Harry could tell by the way the professor spoke. He knew exactly who Harry was. Who Harry had been two years ago, before he had become an Alistair. “Yes, our newest… celebrity.” 

And with that, the Potions Master moved on to the next name. The room was almost entirely silent as they rest of the Slytherin’s were called, and everyone could hear the difference between the way Snape addressed the Gryffindor’s or Harry and the way he spoke to the other Slytherin’s. It was actually concerning. He would have to asks Derrick for advice on what to do. After all, Snape was supposed to be his main life line in Hogwarts, he couldn’t have him hating him. 

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making,” Snape sneered at them. He spoke in a tone just barely above a whisper, but that didn’t really matter, as the room was absolutely silent, Snape able to command their attention without trying. “As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” 

Next to him, Granger seemed to be buzzing with excitement. She was practically on the edge of her seat, eager to prove that she wasn’t a dunderhead. But a quick glance around the room showed that most of the rest of the class was just as nervous as Harry was. Probably more, im most cases. Not everyone had spent the majority of the summer reading books and working with an older brother that was a potions master prodigy. 

“Alistair!” Snape snapped suddenly, making Harry jump. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” 

Harry winced, trying hard to remember anything he learned over the summer. Being put on the spot made Harry go on edge. He couldn’t remember anything… Granger, on the other hand, had her hand raised high into the air, fingers wiggling in excitement. 

“Some kind of drought, sir?” Harry tried, shrinking a little in his seat when Snape’s lips curled in a sneer. 

“Tut tut. Clearly, fame isn’t everything. Let’s try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar, Alistair?” 

Granger stretched her arm higher, practically bouncing in her seat. Harry, meanwhile, wanted to hide under his desk. 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming here, Alistair?” Snape continued to ignore Grangers hand, even as Harry forced himself to not hide his face. He had read all of his school books, at least once each, but he always had trouble remembering things when put on the spot. “What is the difference, Alistair, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” 

Granger actually stood up, hand waving excitedly. But this one, Harry knew. He had been told to get monkshood from Derrick’s stores several times, and he’d read it in at least three different books. 

“Aren’t they the same thing, sir?” Harry tried. 

“Sit down,” he snapped first at Granger, before turning to look back at Harry with a somewhat disapproving face. “For your information, Alistair, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. And while you are correct about monkshood and wolfsbane, they also go by the name aconite.” After a glance around the room, the professor’s scowl deepened. “Well? Why aren’t you all writing this down?” 

Instantly, everyone was scrambling to get out parchment and quill. The professor then began to write instructions on the board, explaining that, at least until the winter holiday, their current seats would be permanent. Whoever they were sitting with would be their potions partner, unless Snap moved them. 

Harry looked over the instructions on the board, frowning a little. A cure for boils? It was a simple potion, one that Derrick had let Harry help with a little more then before. He knew, without looking at the items list, what to grab, and was off to the pantry before Granger had even finished reading to gather everything up. When he came back, Granger was already setting everything up for him. 

“I’ve read all about pre making preparations,” Granger said while he was setting the ingredients down. “You’re supposed to get everything you need set out before you start, so you can move quickly from one task to the next, since potion making is such a time sensitive subject.” 

“I know,” Harry said, glancing at her from the side as he carefully poured a few snake fangs out onto their work station. He started sorting them into groups based on size and color, and weather they had been damaged in some way. 

“What are you doing?” Granger asked, eyeing his many piles. “Is there something wrong with them? I read the potions ingredients encyclopedia. Snake fangs don’t go bad.” 

“They don’t,” Harry agreed, eyes focused as he finally made a pile of six equally pearly, equally undamaged, and equally sized fangs, and dropped them in the morter. “My brother, he’s a potions master. Trained under Professor Snape. I helped him brew over the summer, just a little, and it might just be Derrick, but he told me that it’s important for your ingredients to be the same. The size of the fang will tell you about how old the snakes were when the fangs were taken, and the color can tell you how long ago they were pulled. So I sorted them by size and color, and also took out any that had chips or scrapes on them.” 

Granger blinked, but nodded and went back to work. She seemed to multitask quite well, as she was checking over the ingredients they needed to add next, and cleaning up the piles that Harry had made. He worked on getting the fangs crushed as finely as he could. It seemed that they were both working quite well together, with Harry focusing on the preparation of ingredients, with Granger actually brewing the potion. There was a bit of a snag when Harry snapped the porcupine quills in half before passing them to Granger, but he explained that by snapping the quills before adding them gave the cure a soothing feel on the skin as well, instead of just curing the boils. 

Snape, all the while, was gliding around the room, sneering at almost everyone’s station. He praised Draco quite heavily, seeming to like the blond more then the others. Snape was telling everyone to look at the perfect way that Draco had stewed his horned slugs, and Harry stood on his toes at his station to try and crane his neck to see. Beside him, Granger was pouting, clearly wanting Snape to praise their potion the way he praised Draco, and labeled a spoonful of their blue colored cure into a bottle for grading. 

It was while Harry was trying to peer over at Draco’s potion, that Harry heard the growing sound of hissing. At first, he thought it was Honavi or Nikoa, that the snakes had somehow found him during their exploring. But then the thick, acid green clouds began to plume up from the Gryffindor boys cauldron in front of his and Grangers workstation. The cauldron had been melted into a twisted blob of metal, the potion spilling onto the floor and burning holes into everyone’s shoes. While the poor boy in front of the cauldron moaned in pain as red, angry looking boils sprang up on his arms and legs, the rest of the class was starting to climb onto their stools to avoid the toxic potion. 

Well, almost everyone… Harry, acting on instinct, grabbed the handles of his full cauldron, and swung, sending a wave of blue splashing over the boil riden boy and the horrid green potion on the floor. The green potion on the floor sizzled as it mixed with the blue cure, and the boils on the boys skin stopped growing and looked a bit less red as Snape rushed over. 

“Idiot boy,” he snarled at the boil covered boy, and clearing the sizzling green and blue puddle of potions away with a wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Off to the hospital wing with you! And ten points from Gryffindor for your incompetence!” 

The boy was quickly scurrying off, hands shaking as he tried not to scratch at the boils on his face. Harry was just glad that he didn’t seem to be majorly hurt. 

“And you!” Snape snapped, whirling on Harry. “What did you throw on that boy?” 

“Our boil cure,” Harry said, fumbling to grab his and Grangers bottled potion, and hold it out to the potions master. “I just… I just reacted on instinct.” 

Snape took the bottle, holding it up to the light to study it, then turned displeased black eyes on Harry and Granger. “Three points, Alistair. For your potion and your quick thinking.” 

Then, with a flip of his cloak, the professor was carry carrying their bottled potion to the front of the room and ordering the rest of the class to bottle what they have and bring it forward. Harry blinked, and glanced at Granger, who looked as confused as he felt. 


	5. Friends and Flying

After the confusion that was the end of his first Potions class, Harry was glad for the much simpler Herbology class. It was shared with the Ravenclaws, so Harry was able to sit with Marrisa. The professor, a plump woman by the name of Sprout, also stopped on Harry’s name, as well as Marissa's when she was calling roll. Apparently, Quinn had been one of her favorite students. 

Herbology went by without much fanfare, but Draco had kept shooting looks at him ever since the end of Potions. Feeling a little odd about it, Harry instead walked with Marrisa up to the Great Hall for lunch. She introduced Harry to her Ravenclaw friends, and they all shook his hand. 

When they reached the Great Hall, though, Harry broke off from them to walk towards the Gryffindor table instead. He wanted to check on the boy from Potions, just to make sure he was alright. At first, everyone was staring at him, and Harry felt a bit self conscious, and waved nervously at Skyla when she caught his eye. The rest of the Gryffindor’s seemed to let it go, and go back to their food. Harry, in turn, relaxed and moved to stand by Granger and the boil boy, who was looking much better then the last time Harry had seen him. 

“Hi,” he said, smiling at them, and every pair of eyes were instantly on him once more. “Er… I just wanted to see how you were after Potions… Hope the cure Granger and I brewed didn’t have any side effects?” 

“No,” the boy squeaked, seeming to shrink into himself. “Thank you…” 

“I’m Harrison Alistair,” Harry tried, holding out a hand. “But everyone just calls me Harry.” 

“I know,” the boy squeaked, then scrambled to shake Harry’s hand when he didn’t immediately take it. “N-Neville Longbottom…” 

Harry smiled, and shook Neville’s hand, before pulling back and gesturing over his shoulder. “Anyway, I better be heading to my own table. Granger, it was fun working with you this morning.” 

The Gryffindor girl nodded, smiling at him as he walked back. On the way, he caught Ron’s eye, and they waved at each other before Harry took what seemed to be his usual seat at the Slytherin table. Nina wasn’t there, though Draco and the other Slytherin’s were staring at him in absolute shock. 

“What?” he asked, frowning as he grabbed one of the sandwiches. 

“You were speaking to Gryffindors,” Draco said, openly staring. “First you work with one, then they go and talk to them? Even shook Longbottoms hand after he made a fool of himself.” 

“They’re nice,” Harry said, not really getting why it was such a bad thing, talking to someone in a different house. “Granger is really smart, and she and I seem to make a really great Potions team. And Longbottom isn’t all bad. I think he’s just nervous, being away from home.” 

One of the girls, Parkinson, scrunches up her nose, and Harry rolls his eyes. Grabbing his sandwich, Harry twists out of the table, and heads back towards the door. Nina sees him on his way out, takes one look at his face, and storms over to the group of first years to start scolding them. 

Harry ate his sandwich on the way down to the Slytherin Common Room. He wasn’t really hungry any more, but he had to eat. Grabbing his books for Charms and Transfiguration, Harry made his way to his next class early, wondering if he could get away with sitting by himself, if only for a little while. 

XxXXxX

The rest of the day, almost none of the other Slytherin’s talked to him. Only students from older years really said anything to him, and Harry managed to convince Jasper to show him and Ron how to get into the kitchens. They ate dinner down there, the elves more then happy to feed them. 

“Malfoy is just a git,” Ron said, trying to cheer Harry up. “He likes to show off and pretend he’s the top dog, but your sister really kicked him down a peg or four when she was yelling at him at lunch.” 

“I didn’t ask her to do that,” Harry whined. “Now none of them will talk to me… I just want to fit in. I don’t want anyone hating me because my big sister gets mad whenever I make a sad face…” 

“I don’t really think it was Nina that’s got them all upset.” Ron stopped, frowning. “Well, it sort of is. But not exactly. Pretty sure it was you talking to Neville and Granger. I mean, Slytherin and Gryffindor aren’t really friends. Slytherin isn’t really friends with anyone.” 

Harry refuses to pout. So, just because he was a Slytherin, he couldn’t make friends in other houses? That was stupid. So, so stupid. He told Ron as much, who agreed. 

XxXXxX

The next two weeks continued much the way the afternoon of the first day had. 

Almost none of the Slytherin’s would talk to him, and Harry took his meals away from the Slytherin table. Breakfast and dinner were eaten with Ron in the kitchens, and Harry ate lunch outside with Granger in the courtyard, reading. She seemed interested in what Harry had to tell her about the library back home, and Harry offered to lend her the Salazar book he’d been keeping fairly well hidden from Ron. He hadn’t gotten to read much of it, but what he had, was pretty fascinating. Like the war that took place before the founding of Hogwarts, and Salazar’s role and opinion during it. 

Honavi and Nikoa joined him to his classes sometimes, and helped him keep an eye on Longbottom during Potions. Snape’s attitude towards Harry didn’t really improve. In fact, it seemed like Snape disliked Harry even more when Harry actually did well. He should really owl Derrick for advice. He was starting to get lonely, and he would have to ask Snape for advice on the whole Slytherin’s not talking to him thing. 

It was on their third wednesday at Hogwarts, though, that things changed. 

It was their first flying lesson. The first time Harry would get to fly on a broom. Mama had been quite insistent about him not going into the air, even though almost everyone, even Papa, seemed to think she was being ridiculous. 

Ron had had flying lessons with Madam Hooch the day before, with the Ravenclaws and the rest of Hufflepuff first years, and groaned on about how boring it was. Marrisa, just like her father, was already brilliant on a broom. Ron had practically drooled when he talked about how amazing Marrisa was, even with just the simple things they did. Harry made a joke of pointing out that Marrisa was his cousin, and Ron blushed, embarrassed. 

At three-thirty, Harry made his way down to the pitch with Hermione and Neville. Both of them seemed pretty nervous, though Harry could understand why. Neville was a walking natural disaster. He got into trouble every other step when on the ground, and he could only be worse in the air. Hermione on the other hand, couldn’t really learn how to fly, just from reading books. Harry did his best to reassure them by telling them that it was just going to be simple things. 

When they got there, most of the other students were already there. They were standing around, waiting, with two lines of twenty or so brooms lying in neat rows on the ground. Most of the Gryffindor’s greeted Harry warmly, if not still a little cautious. Madam Hooch arrived not long after them. 

“Well?” she barked. “What are you waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up!” 

Harry took his place by a broom, and frowned down at it. It was old, with twigs sticking out at odd angles. It looked… horrid, when compared to Harry’s memory of the new broom Dahlia had gotten a few months ago. He actually wondered if this one could even fly, it looked so bad. 

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” Madam Hooch told them, obesering everyone as she stood at one end of the rows to eye them all. “Say ‘up’, loud and clearly.” 

Harry did as he was told, and nearly fell over when the broom shot into his hand. He looked around to see if anyone else had gotten the same reaction, and only found Draco and Zabini getting the broom to jump right into their hands. Hermione’s had only rolled over, and Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. They had to be doing the worst, since everyone else at least got their brooms to jump a little. 

Once everyone had their brooms in their hands, Madam Hooch showed them how to mount without sliding off the end. Harry easily slid into position, surprised by how natural it felt. Madam Hooch even commented on it when she walked by, walking down the rows to correct their grips. A few brooms down, Harry had to hold back a snort when she told Draco he had been holding it wrong for years. And to think, Draco had been bragging so much on what an excellent flier he was. 

“Now,” Madam Hooch said when she returned to her observation spot. “When I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle. Three… Two…” 

Before she had even brought her whistle to her lips, Neville was lifting up into the air. The Gryffindor was so jumpy and nervous, he had pushed off by accident, and was shooting up into the air. He was a good twenty feet in the air when Harry say him gasp, slip sideways, and- 

Harry had to look away when Neville fell. He landed with a thud and a nasty crack, and Harry looked over to find Neville laying face down on the grass in a pile. Madam Hooch was bending over Neville in a second, face white as she muttered. 

“Broken wrist. Come on, boy. It’s alright. Up you get.” Once Neville was standing, she turned to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing. You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch’.” 

She was soon off, leading Neville, whose face was streaked with tears and clutching his wrist, up into the castle with an arm around him. Harry wanted to step forward, offer to take Neville to the hospital wing himself, but Madam Hooch was already gone by then. 

And no sooner was Draco bursting into laughter. 

“Did you see his face? What an idiot!” 

The other Slytherin’s joined in, laughing cruelly as Harry tightened his grip around the broom in his hand. 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” one of the girls snapped, glaring at the blond. 

“Aww, sticking up for Longbottom?” Parkinson sneered. “Never took you for someone to like fat little cry babies.” 

“Look!” Malfoy called, darting forward to snatch something from the grass. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.” 

Beside him, Harry heard Hermione gasp, and that was all Harry really needed to step forward, hand outstretched for the glittering thing, a scowl on his face. “Give it here, Malfoy.” 

Everyone froze. The Slytherin’s stared, having been so used to him being quiet around them. Harry realized that, aside from class, this was the first time any of the Slytherin’s had heard him speak in two weeks. Malfoy blinked, then curled his lip in a sneer. 

“I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. Why not up a tree?” 

Harry’s scowl deepened, and he stepped forward, hand still outstretched, but Malfoy was on his broom, and taking off. He wasn’t as graceful as Dahlia or Nina, but Malfoy did know how to fly. The blond boy hovered near the top most branches of a nearby oak, calling down at him. “Come and get it, Alistair!” 

Harry didn’t hesitate, grabbing his broom and kicking off before Hermione could even move to stop him. He slid easily into the sky, air rushing through his hair and his robes whipping out around him. With ease, he turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy. The other boy gaped, stunned, likely since he knew this was Harry’s first time on a broom. 

“Give it here,” Harry called, holding one hand, the other still held firm on the broom. “I won’t ask again.” 

The threat was clear in his voice, and Malfoy actually looked a bit scared for a second. “If you want it so bad… Catch!” And with that, Malfoy turned, throwing the glittery ball as far as he could in the opposite direction of Harry. 

Eyes locked on the ball, Harry took off after it. He watched, the world seeming to slow as he leaned forward and pointed his broom down, sweeping into a dive as the ball started to fall. Bellow, he heard someone scream as his hand stretched out, the ground speeding towards him, and caught the ball just in time to pull up just a few feet from the ground. He landed safely, Gryffindor’s cheering as his feet were once again on the ground. 

“Harrison Alistair!” A voice boomed, making everyone freeze as Professor McGonagall came running onto the field. 


	6. Snape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good god, I am getting worse and worse at naming chapters!

Harry didn’t argue as Professor McGonagall led him away. The Gryffindor’s had tried to defend him, tell her that it wasn’t his fault, but he would accept his punishment. He had broken the rules after all. Maybe it was some sort of divine intervention, since he had gotten on such bad terms with Malfoy, and probably brought dishonor on his family and ruined the Alistair and Malfoy family relations. 

They entered the main part of the castle, and were quickly going down, down, down into the dungeons. It took Harry an embarrassing moment to realize that they were going to Snape’s office. Thankfully, when they entered the Potions classroom, Snape didn’t have a class at the moment. 

“Severus,” Professor McGonagall called, gaining the Potions Master’s attention. “A word.” 

Snape frowned, looking between Harry and McGonagall for a moment, and followed her into the office at the front of the room. They were in there for a while, Leaving Harry to stand awkwardly in the empty classroom. When they came out, McGonagall looked pleased, and Snape scowled at him. 

“My office,” Snape sneered, holding the door open for Harry. “Now.” 

Harry didn’t hesitate, and entered the office, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Snape followed him in, taking the seat at the desk, and peered down his crooked nose at Harry. 

“McGonagall seems to think you inherited your father’s-” The word was filled with so much hatred, Harry had to wonder what Papa had done to Snape that was so horrible. “-skill for Quidditch.” 

“Papa played Quidditch?” Harry couldn’t help but ask, mostly to himself. 

“No,” Snape sneered. “I’m talking about James Potter.” 

Harry actually flinched when the name came out of Snape’s mouth. He sat up straighter, steeling himself and looking Snape dead in the eye. “I’m not a Potter, sir. Not anymore.” 

Snape glowered at him, clearly not impressed. “Yes… You’re an Alistair now. Why such a smart man like Gerald Alistair decided to take a pampered brat such as Harry Potter into his home is beyond me. If he wanted another son so badly, he should have adopted a child that actually needed the home, rather then take you from whatever throne you were sitting on.” 

Harry couldn’t help but return the sneer, his fists clenched in his lap. “I’m not sure what idea you have of my past, but I can assure you that I was not sitting on a throne when the Alistair’s found me.” 

“You’re the wizarding world’s precious ‘Boy Who Lived’,” Snape drawled, rolling his eyes. “Whatever family that were so blessed to host you your first nine years would have fawned over you endlessly.” 

“Well, I guess it’s to bad I ended up at my muggle relatives then. Because they certainly weren’t fawning over me.” 

That instantly shut Snape up, and Harry regretted ever having opened his mouth. He should have just accepted whatever punishment the professor would give him. 

“You can’t mean to say you were sent to the  _ Dursley’s _ .” 

Harry looked away.

“Potter,” Snape pressed, then more urgently. “ _ Alistair _ . You were not living with the Dursley’s, were you? You weren’t living with that toxic, magic hating muggle man!” 

“Uncle Vernon’s in prison now,” Harry said through clenched teeth, memories of those dark days coming back to him. “He was arrested when the Alistair’s found me.” 

“ _ Prison _ ?” Snape said, voice getting shrill. “What do you mean they  _ prison _ ? What did he do to you?” 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing the tears not to come, and wishing he could just run. He could hear Uncle Vernon, voice stern and angry over the crack of the belt. Freak. Boy. Stupid boy! He could feel the ache of the belt hitting his back, feel the ache in his stomach from a week in the cupboard without food. He could feel the nipping cold of winter on his skin from the long nights with only a thin blanket. 

“Alistair,” Snape prompted, and Harry tried to to jump. 

“Cupboard,” Harry wheezed, rubbing at his teary eyes, voice quivering. “I… I lived in the cupboard under the stairs… The Alistair’s found me abandoned at a fair. The Dursley’s had forgotten me.” 

For a few minutes, the office was entirely silent, save for Harry trying to control his ragged breaths. When Harry finally looked up, he found Snape staring at him, sympathy in his eyes. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, but Snape spoke before he could. 

“I didn't mean to bring up such painful memories,” Snape said, slow and calculated. “I… knew Petunia. I never imagined that you would go to her. Not after Lily ended contact with her.” 

“Lily,” Harry breathed, his throat tight. “My… My mother?” 

Snape nodded, looking tense. 

“Could you… tell me about her?” 

The professor closed his eyes. “No. Maybe… another time. For now, we need to deal with today’s incident.” 

Harry swallowed, looking down at his lap and picking nervously at his pants. “Am I going to be expelled?” 

“No,” Snape said, huffing. “Quite the opposite. I’m sure you know about the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin.” He didn’t wait for Harry’s response. “Minerva McGonagall and I have a bit of a rivalry of our own. Mainly through our Quidditch teams. For the last six years, the Slytherin team dominated the pitch, thanks to our amazing team. However, aside from Flint and Hughes, the entirety of the team this year is new. While the Gryffindor team has been working together for the last year.” 

Harry frowned, taking in the information. Snape seemed to be waiting for something. “So Professor McGonagall is confident in the Gryffindor team this year…” 

Snape nodded. “Confident enough that she felt the need to hand deliver me what she described as ‘the best Seeker she had ever seen’. So tell me, Alistair. What do you know about Quidditch? Because I refuse to let McGonagall win the cup without a good fight.” 

“Enough to know how to play,” Harry said carefully. “Does this mean I’m not in trouble?” 

He earned a narrow eyed look. 

“Okay, I will take that as a no…” 

XxXXxX

Harry was in trouble. Quite a bit of it, actually. He had to spent the time he would normally have flying lessons scrubbing out cauldrons for Snape, reorganizing the store cupboard, or being Snapes assistant in afternoon brewing. It wasn’t that bad, considering he had done much of the same thing for Derrick, and the added bonus of Quidditch he got in exchange. 

Since the team actually had to be formed before practice could start, Harry spent the Tuesday and Thursday afternoons that were normally reserved for Slytherin practice, being bored out of his mind as Nina and Marcus Flint tried to find good members for the new team. The two Co-Captains were stressed out of their minds, and even Nina was a little skeptical about having Harry join the team. But she seemed to remember something, and nodded after a few minutes. Something about the way he saw a snitch, even at a young age? 

When he told Ron, the redhead had been so jealous. His friend was demanding to let him practice with him, but Harry really couldn’t, since they wouldn’t be starting practice until they had two beaters, another chaser, a keeper, and at least a few reserve players. Hell, aside from just hovering around with Nina and Flint, watching the candidates try to show off, he hadn’t really been on the broom. Skyla and Jasper were proud of him, giving him bright smiles and congradulations, though Marrisa was insanely jealous. 

They kept the fact that Harry was the new Seeker quiet. The students trying out were told that they couldn't breathe a word of Harry to anyone, not until the first game in November. Harry had been tempted more then a few times to let the secret slip since Malfoy, now that they were clearly on bad terms, kept trying to bait him into a fight again. 

For the most part, he was able to ignore it, since he was so focused on keeping himself out of any more trouble. Snape was treating him like he did the other Slytherin’s now, at least most of the time, and while Mama hadn’t been happy Harry was breaking the rules, she was proud of him. So everything had turned out quite well. 

At least, for another few weeks. 

“Really, Alistair,” Malfoy sneered as they were in their dorm on evening. “I’ve never seen anyone write to their mother half as often as you do!” 

“Mama likes to know how I’m doing,” Harry grit out as he signed his name at the bottom of the letter. 

“‘Mama’?” Malfoy laughed. “Really, Alistair! I never knew you were so childish! Really, what boy your age still calls his mother ‘Mama’?” 

Harry had been planning to just send the letter in the morning. It’s what he normally did. But he couldn’t listen to Malfoy talk shit about Mama. So, without a word, Harry got out of bed, pulled on his bathrobe, tucked the letter into his pocket, and made his way to the door. He could hear Zabini telling Malfoy how ‘uncool’ what Malfoy had said had been. Harry decided he liked Zabini. 

“Better not be gone long,” a sixth year said as Harry went to the door leading out of the Common Room. “Curfew is in ten.” 

“Just going to the kitchens,” Harry half lied. He was planning on stopping by the kitchens, just not until he was on his way back. 

He worked his way out of the dungeons, knowing that it would take about ten minutes just to get up to the owlery. He bumped into Ron coming out of the kitchens, and his best friend took one look at Harry and shrugged, following him up, a few biscuits in his hands and pockets. If there was one thing he could rely on, when it came to Ron, it was that Ron loved food. 

They made it up to the owlery rather quickly, and Harry told Ron about what a jerk Malfoy was being. Ron seemed to feel like this was a moment to say ‘I told you so’, because he said it at least six times as they were making their way back down the moving staircase. 

“Harry?” a voice called from below. He looked over the railing of the stairs they were coming down from, and was surprised to find Hermione, walking up the stairs that connected to their next landing. “What are you doing up? It’s past curfew.” 

“Just went to the owlery,” Harry said, the question on the tip of his tongue, only for Ron to jump in. 

“ _ You’re _ up to.” 

Hermione pursed her lips, unimpressed. “I was taking some books back to the library for Professor McGonagall. I have a note. Do  _ you _ ?” 

“No,” Harry said, looking between his two friends. “Can you guys keep it down? Before Filch-” 

A load meow sounded just to their left, and Harry turned to stare at the cat sitting at the end of the hall. Filch’s cat. Hermione eyed it for a moment, then seemed to go wide eyed as she realized Harry didn’t have a note like she did. Harry, on the other hand, was already prepared for this, and grabbed both their sleeves and started running down the nearest hallway. 

“Found something, my sweet?” Filch was saying to the cat as Harry reached the end of the hallway, and tried to open the door there, only to find it locked. “Is it students out of bed?” 

“This is it,” Ron moaned. “We’re done for. This is the end!” 

“Oh, move!” Hermione snapped, shoving Ron aside and pulling her wand from her pocket. She tapped the lock with the tip, whispering. “Alohomora!” 

With a click, the door swung open, and the three of them piled in. As they closed the door, Harry wondered why Hermione was hiding if she had a note, but ignored the thought to press his ear to the door. Filch clearly thought the door was locked, since they could hear him walk up, pause, and then walk way. They waited a few minutes, just to be sure, before letting out a sigh of relief. 

At least, until Harry realized something. “Guys… What corridor are we in?” 

Ron and Hermione paused, clearly remembering what Dumbledore had said at the beginning of the year, about the third floor corridor on the right. Then, all together, they turned, and came face to face with a massive, drooling, three headed dog.


	7. Halloween

They ran from the room as fast as they could, forcing the door closed and locking it again, hearing the dog scratching on the other side. With the door locked and closed behind them, they stood, listening to the dog growling and scratching until it seemed to give up on eating them for dinner. 

“What do they think they’re doing,” Ron said, the first to break the silence, “keeping a think like that locked up in a school. If any dog needs exercise, it’s that one.” 

“Were you not using your eyes?” Hermione said, breathing a little hard. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?” 

“The floor?” Harry guessed, staring at her like she was absolutely insane. “I wasn’t really looking at its feet. I was to busy with its heads.” 

“Not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It’s obviously guarding something.” She huffed, dusting off her bathrobe and pursing her lips. “I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could have been killed. Or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed. I’ll see you at lunch, Harry.” 

And with that, Hermione was making her way back out of the hallway, and up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower. Ron stared after her, then stared at Harry. 

“You’re really friends with  _ her _ ?” 

“Don’t be mean,” Harry sighed, leading the way back down towards the dungeons, though he did stop to peer around corners for Norris or Filch. “Hermione is actually really nice. She’s smart, to. We’re partners in Potions.” 

“Snape’s awful,” Ron grumbled. “Anyway, see you tomorrow?” 

Harry nodded, waving Ron goodbye as his friend went to the Hufflepuff Common Room. He continued down to the dungeons, turning the corner to the Slytherin dorm door only to stop when he saw Snape. His Head of House turned his nose up at him, peering at him from narrowed eyes. 

“Alistair,” Snape sneered. “You are up past curfew.” 

“I just went to the owlery,” Harry said, maybe a bit to quickly. “I just… Just feeling a little homesick, so I sent a letter to Mama…” 

Snape hummed, and stepped aside, revealing the door to the dormitory. “You are fifteen minutes late, Alistair. Consider this your first and only warning.” 

Harry couldn’t help but smile, ducking his head as he slipped into the Common Room. He had a feeling that the next few days would actually be pretty great.

XxXXxX

Harry was disappointed to find that the next few weeks were actually worse. Malfoy had gone back to ignoring him, and while it was nice that the teasing stopped, at least teasing meant the other Slytherin’s were talking to him. Zabini did, every now and then, but not often. He did start Quidditch practice, which was great, but since he was a Seeker, there wasn’t much interaction between him and the rest of the team. For the most part, he just practiced the moves that Nina showed him, and tried to imitate some of the harder moves that he had seen Dahlia and the Weasley’s do. 

Halloween promised to be interesting, as the school had a big feast for it. He got the first part of the morning off, since Quirral had announced that all of his Defense classes for that day would get to have a free period. So Harry went and sat in on the Gryffindor Charms class. He would have Charms later, but he figured it might be more fun to be in another class he already did fairly well at with Hermione, then be in any class he was kind of bad at with Ron. Transfiguration was hard, okay? When the first class was over, Harry left Hermione in the Charms classroom, since the Gryffindor’s had Defense next and she would rather sit and read in Flitwick’s room then be bored somewhere else. 

Like most days, he slept through most of History, and managed to sneak out a little early to go to lunch. Hermione always scolded him for skipping class but he guessed that today would be okay. 

“I don’t know how you can stand her,” Ron said as he came out of the Charms room. “She’s an absolute nightmare, honestly.” 

Harry blinked, opening his mouth to scold Ron, only for Hermione to shove past them, and hurry down the corridor, her cheeks wet. That was when Harry turned on Ron. 

“I think she heard you,” Harry snapped, not that impressed with his best friend. 

“So?” Ron countered, though he looked a bit uncomfortable. “She must have noticed she’s got no friends.” 

“ _ I’m _ her friend.” Harry didn’t wait for Ron to reply, and turned to go running after Hermione. He wasn’t sure how, but she had seemed to disappear in the crowded hallway, and Harry couldn’t even spot her. By the end of lunch, Harry still hadn’t found her. 

“I heard from Padma that Parvati heard her crying in the girls bathroom,” Marrisa told him during Herbology. “She said she wanted to be left alone. Apparently, she sounded really upset. What did Ron even say to her?” 

Harry just shook his head, but swore he would check on her later. But he didn’t see her between classes on thursday afternoons, because she had double Transfiguration. And after his last class, he had to join Nina and the rest of the team out on the pitch. He was at least pleasantly surprised when Snape asked to see him in his office after practice and found out it was to have tea. The professor was acting a little oddly, though, and let Harry do most of the talking.

He started with a topic that he thought Snape would be interested in, and talked about his Potions essay. But after a while, he ran out of things to talk about when it came to Potions, and went through how he was doing in all his classes, until he had nothing else to say about class, and had to move to Quidditch.

“And I think I’ve managed the Slot Roll,” Harry finished, and was really starting to run out of things to say. He glanced down at his tea cup, and sighed. “Sir? Can I ask you something?” 

Snape didn’t say anything, but nodded, so Harry pressed on. 

“My friend, Hermione… She got really hurt because of something my other friend said. I want to help her, but I don’t want to have to pick between them…” 

“I assume the other friend you’re referring to is Weasley.” Snape hummed, and sipped his tea. “Trust me, Alistair. Weasley simply doesn’t think before he speaks. I believe that when the time comes, you will know what to do.” 

Harry smiled, fiddling with his cup. “Thank you, Sir. But… One more question? Why did you ask me here?” 

At this, Snape sombered, eyes narrowing with an emotion that Harry couldn’t place. “Do you know what today is?” 

Harry was pretty sure that ‘Halloween’ wasn’t the answer Snape was looking for, so he shook his head. 

“Today is the ten year anniversary of the Potter’s deaths.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, blinking for a second before looking down. He had actually… forgotten. He had forgotten that today was the day the his birth parents had died. Should he feel… bad that he had forgotten? Had he forgotten last year? He… he couldn’t remember…

“You look very much like your father,” Snape said, his face scrunched up in disgust. But, his face softened when he spoke again. “But you have Lily’s eyes.” 

“I know,” Harry said softly, running a finger over the edge of his cup. “I… I have a photo album. Of them. I got it from Dorian.” 

“They were in the same house, though he was a few years ahead of us,” Snape agreed. “He was on the Quidditch team with James Potter, though they didn’t speak often, from what I remember. Lily always complained that they would bring their muddy gear into the Gryffindor Common Room and make it smell.” 

“Did you know them well?” Harry asked. “Lily and James Potter.” 

“James Potter and I never got along. But Lily and I… She was my best friend.” Before Harry could ask more, Snape was standing up, setting his cup aside. “We need to be getting to the feast. Come along, Alistair.” 

Harry frowned, setting his own cup down and following Snape to the Great Hall. Almost everyone else was already inside, seated at their tables, and Harry realized that this was the first time since the first day of classes that Harry had been in the Great Hall during a meal time. The room was decorated with live bats and jack-o-lanterns, flying over his head. Settling at the end of the table, next to Nina and most of the other members of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Harry peered across the room to look for Hermione. And saw his friend nowhere. 

Shit. 

Just as Harry was about to get up out of his seat to go looking for her, Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the call, turban crooked, and face stricken with terror. “Troll! In the dungeons! Thought you ought to know.” And promptly collapsed in the middle of the hall in a dead faint. 

Double shit. 

The room was filled with chaos, until Dumbledore was shooting off purple firecrackers from his wand. “Prefects,” he said, authoritative but calm. “Lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately.” 

Harry got up to follow the Slytherin’s out, though he wonder why they would go back to their dorm, in the dungeons, if the troll was in the dungeons. But as the Slytherin’s moved to pass the Hufflepuffs, Harry caught sight of Ron, and grew wide eyed. He reached out, snagging Ron by the elbow, making the other boy jump.

“Hermione,” Harry breathed, wide eyed. 

“What about her?” Ron asked. 

“She doesn’t know about the troll.” 

Ron groaned and they both turned to go running the other way, only for Malfoy to grab Harry’s arm as they passed. 

“Alistair,” Malfoy hissed, though his eyes were clearly filled with fear. “Where are you going?” 

“My friend is in trouble,” Harry said, and tugged his sleeve from Malfoy’s grip, breaking into a sprint. “I gotta go help her!” 

He didn’t need to look behind him to know that Ron was following. They made their way up to the bathrooms closest to the Charms corridor first, having to stop to hide when they saw Snape working his way down the hall. Harry turned to continue, only for Ron to grab him. 

“Smell that?” Ron asked, his face growing pale. 

Harry did. A foul stench filled the air as a soft sound of grunts and shuffling feet filled the air. Ducking behind the corner, Harry peeked out to watch as the troll, maybe twelve feet tall, shuffled into a room at the end of the hall. He could remember the locking spell, and rushed down the hall towards the door to point his wand at the lock, only to freeze as a scream sounded from inside. 

Together, Harry and Ron rushed in, finding Hermione on the far end of the bathroom, cowering on the floor, the troll only a few feet from her. Thinking fast, Harry grabbed a chunk of broken sink, and threw it at the wall to echo around the room. The troll turned stupid and angry beady eyes on him, and it started toward Harry. Ron quickly shouted at it, getting it to go his way, and Harry ducked around it to grab Hermione’s hand. She wouldn’t move, though, and all the shouting seemed to be driving the troll crazy. And with Ron’s life now on the line to, Harry did the first thing he could think of. 

He left onto the trolls back, and accidentally shoved his wand straight up its nose. It howled in pain, twisting and flailing to try and get Harry off. Harry had to cling on for dear life, terrified that any second, the troll was going to rip him off or bash him with the club. Only, Ron reacted, pulling out his own wand and seeming to shout the first spell he could think of. “Wingardium Leviosa.” 

The club was suddenly lifted out of the trolls hand. It rose higher and higher, turned slowly over, and then dropped onto the trolls head with a crack. For a second, the troll swayed, then fell flat on its face, making the room shake. 

Getting to his feet, Harry breathed hard, walking on shaking feet to get his wand from the trolls nose. 

“Is it… dead?” Hermione asked, voice shaking. 

“No,” Harry said, wiping his wand off on the trolls trousers. “Just knocked out…” 

It was then that the door boomed open, and Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell stepped inside. Quirrell took one look at the troll, and nearly fainted again, while McGonagall looked like she was going to breath fire, she was so angry. Snape looked equally angry, in his less obvious way, and bent over the troll. 

“What on earth were you thinking?” McGonagall demanded. “You three are lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your dormitories?” 

Snape looked up, looked between the three of them, and his eyes narrowed. Harry looked down at the floor. 

“I believe I know what happened,” Snape sneered, and he got up to turn to McGonagall. 

“They were looking for me,” Hermione cut in, sounding desperate. “I was-” 

“Do not interrupt, Miss Granger,” McGonagall chastised, and turned to Snape. 

“I remember hearing about Miss Granger earlier today,” Snape said, eyeing Harry. “Supposedly, she had been feeling unwell since this morning, and was likely not at the feast. I assume that Alistair can running after her, and Weasley went running after him.” 

“Is this true?” McGonagall asked them, though her focus was Hermione. 

Hermione looked down, but nodded. “There wasn’t time to get a teacher… The troll had been about to finish me off when they arrived…” 

“Well,” McGonagall said, eyeing Hermione. “I suggest that the next time you aren’t feeling well, you go to the hospital wing. If you are not hurt, you’d better be off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses.” 

Hermione, still a little shaky, quickly nodded and hurried out of the room. Then, McGonagall rounded on Harry and Ron. “As for you two, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could take down a full-grown mountain troll. You both win Slytherin and Hufflepuff ten points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. I’m sure you can see them down to the dungeons, Severus?” 

Snape gave a sharp nod, eyes narrowed at Harry. McGonagall was off, presumably to go tell Dumbledore, and Snape was grabbing them both by the back of their shirts to lead them down the hall. 

“I’m well aware of what the situation was,” Snape draws as he pushes them in front of him. “And I’m afraid that I must take twenty points from Hufflepuff, Weasley, as the entire situation was due to your lack of tact and incompetence.” 

“What?” Ron whined, turning betrayed eyes on Harry. “You told him?” 

“I didn’t use names,” Harry tried. “He figured out who I was talking about on his own.” 

“Enough,” Snape snapped. “I expect good behavior from both of you from now on.” 

Harry and Ron both nodded, and went the rest of the way to their common rooms on their own.


	8. Quidditch

Hermione and Ron started getting along after the incident with the troll, and the three of them often took their meals together in the kitchens or the courtyard. Sometimes, Hermione helped them with their homework, reading essays over, and telling them if they got anything wrong. It was good, Harry thought, to have his two best friends getting along. 

After the troll incident, Ron became obsessed with the trapdoor on the third floor. He seemed to think that Snape was going to try and steal whatever it was that was down there. Harry tried to tell Ron that it couldn’t be Snape, that there had to be some other reason Snape had been up there instead of with the other teachers. When Snape showed up to their next few classes with a limp, Ron took that as proof and couldn’t be swayed. Harry just thought he was being stubborn.

“Really, Ronald,” Hermione sighed. “Why would Professor Snape try to steal something Dumbledore had hidden?” 

“Because he’s evil?” Ron tried, though Harry was not at all convinced.  

Malfoy had, surprisingly, stopped teasing him. Every now and then, Malfoy would greet him, just his last name, when they passed each other on their way to classes. It was a small improvement, but an improvement all the same. 

The improvement wasn’t enough to calm Harry’s nerves when their first Quidditch game arrived. His stomach was turning in knots as he stared at his breakfast. He had been training for weeks, but he hadn’t actually been using the snitch for practice. He knew he could see the fastest silver ones from the ground kit, but maybe the gold one was even faster. What if he couldn’t catch it? 

“You have to eat,” Hermione said as they sat in the kitchens. “Just a bit of toast. To keep your strength up.” 

“I’m not hungry,” Harry grumbled, picking at the hem of his robes. He felt like if he tried to eat, he would only throw up. 

When eleven o’clock rolled around, Harry made his way down to the pitch with the other students. Ron and Hermione pulled him aside for a moment to give him reassuring words, but they went in one ear and out the other. He felt sick… 

“Come on, Harry,” Nina said, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and leading him into the locker room. Everyone was already geared up and holding their brooms. Most of them looked as nervous as Harry felt. “Guys! What’s with all the sickly faces? Come on, we’re going to kick those Gryffindor butts!” 

Everyone nodded, and turned to file out onto the pitch. Flint gave Harry a once over, and then a simple nod before following the rest of the team out. Harry could hear the student announcer introducing all of his teammates, and quickly got on his gear to follow them out. 

“And finally,” Lee Jordan called over the speakers. “We get to see who the Slytherin’s picked as their Seeker! The slimey snakes have been keeping this players identity a massive secret, even from other Slytherin’s. And that player is… Wait, is that Harrison Alistair? Isn’t he a first year?” 

Harry swallowed, and kicked off the ground to join the rest of the players in the air. Madam Hooch gave them a quick talk, and eyed Flint in particular. Then, with a blow of her whistle, the balls were released and the match was off. 

“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor,” Jordan calls from his spot in the stands. “What an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, to-” 

“Jordan!” 

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall.” 

For the most part, Harry sat high above the crowd, keeping his eyes open for any flash of gold as he listened to the commentary from Jordan. Nina, perhaps in a mix of sibling worry and Captain advice, had told Harry that, under no circumstance, was he to enter the main portion of the game until he had sight on the Snitch. She knew Skyla’s play style, knew that as the Gryffindor Seeker, their sister would be darting in and out, around the entire field, until she found the Snitch, hoping to get closer to it before Harry. If Harry just stayed in one place, and focused solely on finding it, he could spot it first, and catch it. 

“And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve. Back to Johnson and- No, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle! Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes! Flint flying like an eagle up there. He's going to score- No, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle. That's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, with a nice dive around Flint, off up the field and- Ouch! That must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger! Quaffle taken by the Slytherins- That's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger, sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which. Nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes. She's really flying, dodges a speeding Bludger, the goal posts are ahead. Come on, now, Angelina! Keeper Bletchley dives… misses… Gryffindor Scores!” 

From his position, Harry can see almost the entirety of Gryffindor stand up and cheer. On the other side of the pitch, he could hear the Slytherin’s groan. Harry had grown calm once he had gotten into the air. He could do this, he knew. Nina knew it to. He could catch the Snitch. 

There was a flash of gold, but when Harry turned to look at it, it was only one of the Weasley’s wrist watches. It was a good thing Harry saw it though, because a second later, a Bludger came pelting right for his face. Lucian Bole swooped in to knock it away for him, only giving Harry a quick nod before flying off to save Flint from a knock to the head. 

Things really got interesting then. He saw the Snitch once, and had gone chasing after, neck in neck with Skyla. They were stopped when they nearly crashed into each other when Flint bodily blocked Skyla, earning a foul. The game went on, though Harry was starting to doubt Flint’s fairness to the game, and he went back to hovering above the field. 

It was then, with him hovering several yards above the field, that his broom suddenly jerked in his hands. Harry felt his heart sink. He was using a school broom, one of the better ones that they could find, until Nina could convince Mama to let Harry have a new racing broom, and he had heard that they sometimes acted out. Was this one of those times? 

The broom jerked again, shuddering and Harry knew something was wrong. He went to turn to Nina or Flint, to tell them to call a timeout, only for his broom to suddenly start rolling. Harry yelped, hands gripping tighter, to try and keep on it, as people started pointing and shouting. He heard terrified cries come from Nina and Skyla, and Harry saw them racing toward him when the broom paused, just for a moment. Then, it jerked up, and Harry was suddenly tossed into the air, hands empty, and flailed as he began to fall. 

One hand barely swung out, catching onto the handle and making it tilt and dive towards the ground. People screamed, and Harry opened him mouth to shout, only for something to slam into the inside of his cheek. Harry clapped his free hand to his mouth, wide eyed as he managed to clamber back up to broom, and pull it up out of the dive to save himself from becoming a pancake. It did not, however, save him from hitting the ground. 

He hit the ground running, taking a few hurried and unsteady steps before he fell to his knees. Mouth still full of something, Harry dropped, bracing himself on the ground with one hand and practically throwing up in the other. And then, he stared at the gold ball in his palm. 

“I’ve got the Snitch!” Harry shouted, waving it above his head. 

The stands went  _ crazy _ . The Slytherin’s gave confused cheers, not sure whether they should count it as a win or just an accident, as the Gryffindors roared in confused rage. Oliver Wood was still shouting about it twenty minutes later, how Harry had nearly swallowed it instead of catching it. Jordan had begrudgingly let the win go, since there was nothing against it in the rules, leaving Slytherin to win, hundred-ninety to forty. 

Nina and Skyla were hugging him around the neck when they came down, clearly having been worrying for his life. Harry let his two older sisters worry over him for a moment, before the Slytherin team was wedging in around them, clapping Harry on the back for his rather… unorthodox method of catching the Snitch. 

“What a game,” Harry said to Ron and Hermione when he finally managed to get away from the Slytherin’s on the way back up to the castle. “I can’t believe I nearly died… Maybe now Mama will get me a new broom.” 

“It wasn’t the broom,” Ron said, his fists clenched angrily. “It was Snape! He was cursing your broom.” 

“Ron,” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “Professor Snape isn’t trying to kill me. He was my brothers mentor, is my Head of House, and just a few weeks ago we sat and had tea together. The brooms are old. It just malfunctioned. Right, Hermione?” 

The bushy haired girl pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “No, Harry. I think Ron’s right. I’ve read about dark curses. You have to keep eye contact with whatever you’re cursing, and Snape was definitely keeping his eyes on you and your broom. We saw him muttering the curse. And when I set his robes on fire-” 

Harry gaped at her, horrified. “You set him on fire?”

“Not him,” she said, though she seemed to have the decency to at least look embarrassed. “Just the end of his robes, and only for a second. But it worked. He looked away, and you were able to get control of the broom.” 

Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands. He had though Hermione was the reasonable one. Snape wasn’t out to kill him, and he definitely wasn’t cursing Harry’s broom. The brooms were  _ old _ . They acted out sometimes. Ron’s brothers had even mentioned it more then a few times. 

“And I think,” Hermione continued, glancing at Ron, “I owe you an apology. For not believing you about Snape and the trapdoor. Whatever is down there, Snape is trying to steal it and we have to stop him before it’s to late.” 

“You’re both crazy,” Harry huffed, tossing his hands up in exasperation, and turning to walk back towards the pitch. 

“Harry!” Hermione called after him. 

“Where are you going?” Ron shouted. 

“Away from you two!” Harry shouted back. “Maybe if I have a few minutes alone, I can figure out how you both gone mad!” 

He stomped off down the grounds of the castle, still in his Quidditch robes. Harry could tell that his two friends wanted to come after him, but they thankfully stayed away. Grumbling, he tucked his hands under his arms to keep them warm, kicking at a rock. 

Snape wasn’t trying to kill him. He couldn’t be. He had been… not necessarily kind, but Snape had been rather pleasant to Harry since he had been put on the Quidditch team. And after their conversation about Harry’s birth parents, no matter how brief, Harry didn’t want to doubt the man. It was clear that Snape was close with his birth mother. Maybe even loved her. So there was no reason the potions master would want to kill Harry. 

“Oye!” A loud voice boomed to Harry’s right, making Harry jump. “What are yeh doin’ out ‘ere?” 

Turning, Harry stared at the large man that was now trudging towards him. He looked nearly twice as tall as Harry, and was looking down at Harry rather angrily with black eyes that were just barely visible from behind a face covered in a thick, bushy beard. It was then that Harry realized he was standing at the edge of a fenced in garden outside of a small wooden hut by the Forbidden Forest. 

“Sorry,” Harry said, maybe a little to quickly. “I wasn’t paying attention. I’ll just… go.” 

“Wait,” the large man said, and Harry stood frozen as the giant man seemed to loom over him. “Don’ I know yeh from somewhere?” 

“No?” Harry said, and went wide eyed as a hand larger then his face was reaching out. He snapped his eyes closed, terrified that this was the end, only to feel a finger wide across his forehead by his temple. 

“It is!” a loud and cheery voice howled, and suddenly he was swept up in a bone crushing hug. “It’s you! Harry! Las’ time I saw yeh, you was only a baby!” 

Harry blinked and only managing to weeze out a reply. “What?” 

The large man set him down, sniffling as he wiped tears from his eyes. He looked less… dangerous now, and more like a giant teddy bear instead of a real bear. “It’s good to see yeh, Harry! Come on in, and I’ll make yeh a cup of tea! And biscuits!” 

And that was how Harry ended up seated at a half-giants table, in a tiny hut full of furs, holding a chipped tea cup and a dog’s head drooling on the lap of his Quidditch robes, wondering how he got himself into these kinds of situations. The giant, Hagrid, was lumbering around the hut, poking at the fireplace to keep it going, and pulling a tray of biscuits out of an old fashioned stone oven. Harry idly pet the dogs head, making him rumble happily and somehow drool more. 

“Fang really likes yeh,” Hagrid said, and set one of the biscuits on a plate before pushing to towards Harry. “Though, he’ll like anyone if they pet ‘im enough.” 

“Right,” Harry said, and went to pick up the biscuit, only to carefully push it away when he realized it was as hard as a rock. “You, er, said you knew me as a baby?” 

Hagrid nodded eagerly, beaming at him as he took a seat across from Harry. “Knew Lily an’ James. As good a witch an’ wizard I ever knew. Head boy an’ girl, back in their day! Nicer people yeh couldn’t find.” 

“So you know I’m Harry Potter?” 

“Well, course I do!” Hagrid huffed, shaking his head. “Took yeh from the ruined house, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter the Dursley lot. They treatin’ yeh well?” 

“Er…” Harry squirmed, getting rather uncomfortable. “I don’t… live with the Dursley’s anymore. I got adopted. I go by Harrison Alistair now. But, my friends still call me Harry.” 

“Alistair?” Hagrid blinked. “They’re a nice lot. Went to school with Gerald Alistair, though he was a year behind me. Least ‘til I, er, got expelled. Dumbledore let me stay as the groundskeeper, though, so I met Zinnia a few times, to.” 

Harry nodded, thinking better of asking how Hagrid had gotten expelled, and took a sip of his tea, only to set it back down. He couldn’t tell if the tea was really bland, of if there were so many flavors that it tasted like nothing. 

“Hagrid,” Harry said. “Could I ask you for some advice?” 

“Course, Harry! Can’t promise I’ll give yeh anything good, though.” 

“I had an argument with my friends. About Professor Snape. I don’t know if you were at the match today, but they seem to think that he was cursing my broom to act out.” 

“Rubbish. Why would Snape do somethin’ like that?” 

“That’s what I told them! But ever since Halloween, Ron’s thought he’s been trying to get passed that three headed dog to steal whatever it’s guarding. And now Hermione thinks so to!” 

Hagrid jumped in his seat, tiny eyes doing wide. “How do you know about Fluffy?” 

Harry stared. “Fluffy?” 

“He’s mine,” Hagrid said. “Bought him from a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year. Lent him to Dumbledre to guard the-” He cut himself off, looking rather angry with himself. “Now, listen to me, Harry. Yeh tell yer friend’s they’re meddlin’ in things that don’ concern them. It’s dangerous. Yeh forget that dog, an’ yeh forget what he’s guardin’. That’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel.” 

Harry blinked. Who was Nicolas Flamel? Hagrid had given him reasurences on Snape, but he had also given him a clue as to just what was down that trapdoor. He needed to tell Ron and Hermione. 

“Okay Hagrid,” Harry said, getting up, though Fang whined pitifully at the loss of pets. “Thank you for the tea, but I should head back up to the castle. You know, to tell Ron and Hermione what you said.” 

It wasn’t a full on lie, but Hagrid nodded, not seeming to notice. “Come back again. Yeh know. If yeh want.” 

He felt a little bad, hearing the way Hagrid said that. But he actually kind of liked Hagrid. He was nice, and while he didn’t make the best tea and biscuits, Harry thought he might be nice to talk to. Maybe he had stories about the rest of his siblings from their Hogwarts days, if he had been the groundskeeper for so long. Harry would be sure to ask, the next time he visited Hagrid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, normally I don't put notes in this, because I've been working so fast on this stories chapters for anything I ask you guys to help with the next chapters, but I need your help! I'm way ahead, and I hit a snag for the end of Year Two! I need to know!   
> Should Harry kill the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets? Please help! This will change things in later years to, and i'm so conflicted!


	9. Winter

When harry got back to the castle, he first went to get changed out of his Quidditch gear. The knees were still covered in mud and dirt from when he had hit the pitch, and now the thighs of his pants were covered in Fang’s thick slime like drool. He got more then a few stranger looks when he entered the Slytherin Common Room, a good hour after the end of the match. Most of the team was celebrating, and turned to look at him when he entered. He shrugged, and went to his dorm to get changed. 

“Gods, Alistair,” Malfoy gasped almost instantly. “What in blazes happened to you?” 

Harry frowned, not sure if it was supposed to be a mean retort or not. “I met Hagrid and Fang.” 

“Who are Hagrid and Fang?” 

“Rubeus Hagrid is the groundskeeper,” Not said, sitting on his bed and reading a book like always. “He’s known for being very large. And Fang is his dog. He is known for how much he drools.” 

Malfoy balked, rounding on Nott. “How do you even know that?” 

“I read the staff directory.” 

With a hum, Harry took a moment to rummage in his trunk for a fresh pair of pajamas. He wasn’t really planning on going anywhere but the kitchens, so it wouldn’t really matter what he wore. He just needed to shower first. 

“Alistair,” Malfoy called, making Harry pause at the door. “You… You did well today. On the pitch.” 

For a minute, Harry’s brain just… died. Because Draco Malfoy seriously couldn’t be giving him a compliment after two and a half months of being a jerk. Seriously? Two and a half months of teasing and then ignoring and then teasing and then ignoring again, because Harry was friends with a Weasley Hufflepuff and a couple of Gryffindor’s, and catching a Snitch in a bloody Quidditch match gets Malfoy playing nice again?! 

“Thanks,” Harry says, once he stops internally screaming in frustration, and goes to take a shower, because Malfoy is just to complex to understand. When he gets out, Malfoy doesn’t say anything to him so he guesses it’s back to the ignoring. 

After a quick stop in the Common Room to let Nina ruffle his hair, Harry was padding in his pajamas and slippers up to the kitchens. A few students passed him on his way, but they ignored his state of dress to congratulate him on his broom skills. When he entered the kitchens, Hermione and Ron were already there, waiting for him, and the elves already making them dinner. 

“There you are,” Hermione sighed. “Harry, we were starting to get worried.” 

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said. “Where have you been?” 

Harry slit into one of the seats next to Ron, across from Hermione. “I met the groundskeeper, Hagrid. He invited me to tea. But he let some information on what’s under the door slip before I left.” 

“Did he tell you what it is?” Ron asked excitedly. 

“No, but he did tell me that it was dangerous, and had something to do with Dumbledore and a guy named Nicolas Flamel.” 

“That name sounds familiar,” Hermione said, frowning deeply. “But I’m not sure from where…” 

“Sounds familiar to me to,” Ron added, frowning. “But I don’t have a clue who he is.” 

Harry looked between them, pursing his lips. “So we if we go to the library to look for this guy, we should start with books both of you have read…” 

His two friends shared a glance, and Harry knew that they wouldn’t be getting anywhere for awhile. 

XxXXxX

By mid-December, they hadn’t found anything even mentioning Nicolas Flamel. They had flipped through hundreds, thousands of books, looking for any mention of the mystery man, but found nothing. They had visited Hagrid a couple of times, but they made sure to never mention Flamel, so as not make the man suspicious. 

But, with December came the winter holidays. Hermione would be going home for Christmas, and while Harry was originally supposed to go home for the holidays, Mama had sent an owl to apologize. They had gotten stuck in a snowstorm in France, meeting Russell’s girlfriend’s family. They didn’t know how long it would be until the snow subsided, and while the house elves were more then capable of making sure they were cared for, Mama wasn’t comfortable letting Harry be home alone with just Derrick. Nina was going to visit Dahlia in Wales, and Skyla had made plans to go to a Ravenclaw friends during the majority of the break. Both Marissa and Jasper were going home, though. Mama had said he could ask one of his siblings if he could stay with them if he wanted, or ask one of his friends, but Harry decided it would be better to just stay at Hogwarts. After all, Ron was staying to, since his parents were visiting Charlie in Romania.

Having to go back and explain everything to Professor Snape after saying he would be leaving for the holidays had been rather embarrassing. Snape had actually looked surprised, though Harry could understand why. Not only was he the only horde member not leaving the school, but he was also the only Slytherin that would remain. Even Snape was going home for a few days. 

It wasn’t a big deal, at least, not to Harry. The only real problem with it was that it meant Harry couldn’t look through the library for books about Flamel. 

On the last day of class, as Harry and Hermione made their way down to meet Ron in the kitchens, they found Hagrid heaving a tree into the Great Hall. It was an enormous tree, and Harry almost wondered how Hagrid was able to move it all by himself. 

“Hey Hagrid,” Harry heard Ron say as he ducked in to help his hal-giant friend. “Want any help?” 

“Nah,” Hagrid said, then smiled when he saw Harry pop up beside him. “Oh, ‘ello Harry. I’m all right, thanks.” 

“Would you mind moving out of the way?” Harry heard someone drawl from outside the tree. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to- Gah!” 

To say hearing Malfoy scream when Harry popped out of the tree had been at least a little satisfying would be an understatement. Though, Harry wasn’t surprised. He had to climb over branches to get out, and had somehow ended up a few feet up at the end. Even Ron and Hermione had jumped when he had popped out of the nettles and jumped down. 

“Found Hagrid,” Harry said, tilting his head forward to try and dust the needles out of his hair, the tree starting to shuffle away. “He said he doesn’t need any help. Do I still have pine needles in my hair?” 

“Just a few,” Hermione giggled, reaching out to pluck on from his hair. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, Harry? Madam Pince won't be happy if you leave pine needles everywhere. Ron and I can a head start on the library.” 

“Yeah,” Harry laughed. “You’re probably right.” 

He watched them turn back down the hallway before turning to follow the rest of the Slytherin first years down towards the dungeon. They hadn’t been ignoring him since the quidditch match, not exactly, but they at least greeted him when he entered a room. Sometimes they asked him questions about their charms homework, and potions, if Malfoy wasn’t around. 

When they got to their dorm, Harry takes another shower before changing into regular clothes. By the time he gets back, the other Slytherin’s are all packing their trunks. Nott was weighting each of his books, seeming to wonder which one’s to take and which to leave, while Malfoy was trying to get advice from Zabini about which of his extra clothes he should leave behind to make room for his homework. Crabbe and Goyle were looking at different sweets they had gotten from older students that went to Hogsmeade, and looking far to concerned about weather they should eat the chocolate frogs now and save the cauldron cakes for later or vise versa. 

Tossing his robes onto the chair he always left them on, Harry turned to head back out of the dorm. 

“Alistair,” Zabini called, making Harry pause. “Tell Draco he’s being ridiculous! He’s not going to wear the silver dress shirt.” 

“Uh,” Harry said, rather dumbly. “I’m… not really the one to ask for fashion advice.” 

“Clearly,” Malfoy drawled, giving Harry a once over. “You aren’t going to pack?” 

“No. I’m staying here for the holidays.” 

At that, everyone in the room turned to stare at him. Nott dropped his books, Crabbe and Goyle stopped stuffing cauldron cakes into their mouths, and Malfoy actually dropped his clothes onto the floor. Zabini seemed to do a mental rewind, shaking his head. 

“Wait,” the other boy said, holding up a finger in the universal sign for ‘give me a minute’. “You’re staying here. As in Hogwarts. Alone?” 

“The Weasley’s and a few others are staying to,” Harry said with a shrug. “And most of the professors are staying to. So, no. Not alone.” 

“Yes,” Malfoy said slowly. “But there won’t be anyone in Slytherin. Besides you and your sister.” 

“Nina’s not staying. She’s going to go visit our cousin Dahlia.” At their horrified faces, Harry shrugged. “My parents got stuck in a snowstorm in France. Their owl arrived near dead yesterday morning. I told Snape, and he arranged for me to stay in the Hufflepuff Common Room so I won’t be alone here. Professor Sprout said it was okay.” 

If it were possible, the Slytherin’s faces looked even more horrified. Well, Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott looked horrified. Crabbe and Goyle just looked confused. Harry shrugged, then turned to head back out the door. He did pause, however, to turn back to them curiously, though mostly Nott, since the boy always had his nose in a book. 

“Oh, and before you go… Have any of you heard of Nicolas Flamel?” 

The three none lumbering boys shared a look between them before shaking their heads. 

“The name sounds familiar,” Nott said, turning to peer at his books. “But I can’t remember from where.” 

“Is he your birth father?” Malfoy asked, making Harry gape at him. “Is that what you, Weasley, and Granger doing with all those books in the library? Researching your birth father?” 

Harry’s face scrunched up, dismayed. “What? No! Why would you even think that?” 

Zabini pursed his lips. “You can’t really blame us. I mean, you basically didn’t exist until you were taken in by the Alistair’s, and even then, there wasn’t much on you other then rumor. You’re pedigree is a complete mystery.” 

At ‘pedigree’, Harry couldn’t help but think of Vernon’s sister, Marge, and her horrible little monster dog. Just remembering that dog brought pain to his hands and ankles from the one and only time Harry had made the mistake of trying to pet it. He hated the word pedigree. Especially when used in connection with his family. 

“He’s not my father,” Harry said. “All you need to know about my…  _ pedigree _ is that my birth parents were wizards that died at the end of the last war. Some stuff happened, and I was adopted by the Alistair's. Enough said.” 

With that, Harry turned and stomped out of the room. He had been in such a good mood, to. Even after learning he wasn’t going home, Harry had been determined to make the most of it. He was going to be spending Christmas with Ron in the Hufflepuff Common Room. He was going to be able to get out on a school broom if he wanted to practice. He was going to make sure he had a good holiday. But no. He had to get upset because Zabini said one word that make him remember his old life. He wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t the Dursley’s freak nephew anymore. 

When he reached the library, Harry dropped into a chair, and laid his head on the table. He could tell that Ron and Hermione were looking at him with concern, without even looking at them. He hated making them worry, but he just wasn’t sure what to tell them. Ron sort of knew about his life with the Dursley’s, but Hermione, as far as he knew, didn’t even know he was adopted.  

“Harry?” Hermione prompted softly. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he tried, then though better of it and grumbled. “I asked the Slytherin’s if they knew who Nicolas Flamel was. Nott thought it sounded familiar, but couldn’t place where. And then they asked if he was my father.” 

Hermione looked much to confused, and shot Ron a glare when he snorted. They heard Madam Pince shoosh them from her desk at the front of the library, and Ron stifled his laughs to shake his head. 

“If only they knew, mate,” Ron sighed good naturedly. “Would really change up the dynamic in your common room. They’d all want a piece of you. Or hate you, depending on who their parents sided with in the war.” 

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked, brows furrowed in annoyance. She hated not knowing things, and especially knowing things wrong. “Harry’s father is Gerald Alistair. The member of the Wizengamot. Isn’t he?” 

“He is,” Harry said, smiling a little, since he’d never seen Hermione so flustered. “But my name was changed when I was adopted. Everyone knows that.” 

At first, Harry wondered if he had gone to far. But then Hermione’s mouth dropped, gaping like a fish as Ron had to excuse himself to try and stifle his laughter. Clearly, Hermione hadn’t know Harry was adopted. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think I had to. I mean, information on my family is all over the place.” Harry paused, thoughtful. “Though, I guess it’s mostly just in gossip magazines and record books.” 

“Then what was your name before?” 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Hermione clapped her hand over her lips. She looked… ashamed, though Harry didn’t understand why. Hermione liked to know things. It was just who she was. She asked questions, and looked to books for answers when people wouldn’t tell. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have asked that. You’re Harrison Alistair now, and that’s really all I need to know and-” 

“You can’t tell anyone,” Harry said, cutting her off. She paused, then nodded quickly, leaning in when Harry went to whisper in her ear. “Harry Potter.” 

Instantly, Hermione was sitting up straight, eyes wide and jaw working wordlessly for a moment. “You’re joking,” she breathed, eyes wide. “But… That can’t be. You’re famous. And everyone knows about the scar, and… and…” 

“I use cover up,” Harry shrugged, turning back to the books. “And I don’t really care about the fame. I changed my name because I wanted to be a part of something bigger then myself. The Alistair’s, they’re all different. They’ve all gone into different fields, at least for the most part, and made a name for themselves. I want to make a name for myself, to add to my families legacy.” 

For a moment, Hermione seemed to think that over. But she nodded, and let the subject drop. Then, together, they returned to the books to look for Nicolas Flamel. Ron returned, and they set to work, trying, and failing, to find anything on Flamel.


	10. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post until the 19th, but I thought I'd give you guys a sort of Valentines gift in another chapter. Hope all my fellow singles out there enjoy!

The next day showed Harry and Ron waving goodbye to Hermione and most of the rest of the school. Nina and Skyla, and even Jasper and Marissa, had given Harry tight hugs before they’d gone, sorry to leave him at school all alone. Harry had only smiled, thrown an arm around Ron’s shoulders, and told them that he wouldn’t be alone. 

Once the train had left, the castle had gone eerily quiet. Harry was so used to hustle and bustle of students hurrying through the halls from one class to another, finding the hallways practically empty disturbed him. It must have made Ron just as uneasy, because they spent most of their time in the Hufflepuff Common Room. 

Ron tried to teach Harry how to play wizard chess. Harry already knew he wasn’t very good at it, but playing against Ron made him seem even worse. Within only a few turns, Ron would beat him, his chessmen crumbled to dust on the board. Like most of the things Ron owned, the board and chessmen had belonged to someone else in the Weasley family. Though, in this case, that didn’t seem to be a drawback, as the living pieces seemed to obey Ron’s orders without complaint. It made Harry wonder if Ron would even like the present Harry had gotten him. 

When they weren’t in the common room, they spent the rest of their free time down on the grounds, building snowmen and having snowball fights. Sometimes, Hagrid would help them, lifting the massive snowballs to make ten foot tall snowmen that towered over them like frozen guardians, shielding them from flying snow they threw when they moved to snowball fights. Those were Harry’s favorite days, when they ducked around towering snow, darting around to see who could land a hit first. 

Eventually, Christmas came, Harry blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looked up to find Ron walking into the Common Room from the dorms. He had slept on the soft, plush couch in front of the fire. There was now a pile of presents under the tree in the corner, and Harry was rather surprised when Dizzy popped in with a tray of hot cocoa and a few more parecals. 

“Merry Christmas,” Ron yawned as Dizzy held the tray up for him to take a cup. 

“You too,” Harry said, smiling when Dizzy brought him the other cup. “What are you doing here?” 

“Dizzy is delivering the presents from home to Master Harry and others,” Dizzy said, going to set the extra packages under the tree. “Mistress Zinnia had left many presents at home before she left. Dizzy must be getting back.” 

“Dizzy,” Harry called, before the elf could pop away. “Merry Christmas.” 

For a moment, the elf eyed Harry. Then, ducking her head, she nodded. “Merry Christmas, Master Harry.” And with that, she was gone. 

“You have the weirdest house elf,” Ron said, turning to pick at his pile of presents under the tree. “Makes great cocoa, though. You gonna come open presents or not?” 

With a smile, Harry moved to sit with Ron by the tree, picking up his package as the few other Hufflepuff students made their way out. It was wrapped with thick brown paper, so Harry knew that it couldn’t be from any of his family. On the top was a messy scrawl that told him it was from Hagrid. When he opened it, he found a roughly cut wood flute. It was clearly hand made, and Harry was delighted to find that it sounded a bit like an owl. 

The next one was a rather lumpy looking package, though very familiar. Just as he thought, it was an emerald green hand knitted sweater from Molly Weasley. He pulled it on over his head, even as Ron groaned in embarrassment. There was also a box of homemade fudge, Harry’s favorite Weasley treat. 

There was a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione, and some of Quinn’s homemade treats. Freya had sent him an old looking book with a snake on the cover, and when he opened it, Ron made a comment on how weird it was that it was written in a language Harry couldn’t read, though it sort of looked like english to Harry when he squinted at it. Parseltongue, maybe? Russell had sent an early copy of the new Spelled Heart album. 

“Don’t know why you like those mushy love songs,” Ron said as he opened up the gift from Harry. “Wow! A new wizard chess set?! Thanks, Harry!” 

“You’re welcome,” Harry said, reading the list of songs from the back of the album. “And they’re not just love songs. I mean, all their songs are about feelings, but some of them aren’t about romantic feelings at all. Russell wrote a song about me when I joined the family. You know, New Comer?” 

“Ginny was obsessed with that song… Got the stupid thing memorized from how often she played it.” 

Dorian had sent a broom care kit, which didn’t make sense until Harry got to the large package from Mama and Papa. It was a Nimbus Two Thousand, brand new and sleek. Ron marvelled at it while Harry read the note from his parents. Apparently, Mama had been so worried after hearing what happened at his first Quidditch match that she had been about to write to Snape to tell him to pull Harry off the team. Papa had stopped her, and convinced her that maybe a new broom would be safer instead of coddling him. And boy was Harry glad for it. 

There was only one package left. It was very light for its size, almost like there wasn’t anything inside. When he opened it, something fluid and silver-gray fell to the floor, laying in a pool of gleaming cloth. Harry picked it up, feeling the strange texture, like water woven into material. 

“I’ve heard of those,” Ron gasped, dropping the Nimbus. “If that’s what I think it is- They’re really rare! And really valuable.” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s an invisibility cloak. I’m sure it is! Try it on!” 

Harry glanced around the room, making sure no one else was around, before pulling it on. He moved to the mirror by the fireplace to find only his head in the reflection, floating in midair. Pulling the cloak over his head, Harry found his entire reflection had vanished. 

“There’s a note!” Ron gasped suddenly. “A note fell out of it!” 

Quickly, Harry pulled off the cloak and took the letter. He let Ron admire the cloak as he scrutinized the narrow loopy writing. He didn’t recognize it, which made the words written there all the more concerning. 

_ Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.  _

_ A Very Merry Christmas to you, Harry Potter. _

There wasn’t a signature, but Harry didn’t need one. Aside from his family, only a handful of people knew who his birth parents were. And out of that handful, he saw all but one’s handwriting on a regular basis. The cloak had to come from Dumbledore. But why? Was the old man meddling in his life once again? 

Since getting his Hogwarts letter, Harry had learned how deeply the man he had never formally met was meddling in his life. Sending him to the Dursley’s? His vault key? The double letters? There was no doubt, now, that it was likely Dumbledore behind the mix up with the list of names at the Sorting. Now, giving him James Potter’s cloak? The old man must be up to something. 

“I’d give anything for one of these,” Ron whinged, then looked up. “Hey, what’s the matter?” 

“Nothing,” Harry said, tossing the note in the fire to burn. He couldn’t have anyone see just who the note was for, after all. “It belonged to my father.” 

“Seriously?! I didn’t think even the Alistair’s had enough money to own something like this!” 

“Not Papa. The other one.” 

Ron fell silent, looking at the cloak with a new, wide eyed curiosity. 

While Ron was gathering up his gifts, Harry got his altogether to take down to the Slytherin dorms, since Snape would be back later that evening for him to be allowed to stay in his room again. He hadn’t been down there since everyone had left though, and it was odd to see the fireplace empty. It wasn’t cold, so Harry just continued to his dorm to put his gifts away, and hide the cloak. He left the Nimbus with Ron, so they could go flying later. 

Harry joined the Weasley’s at the Gryffindor table, smiling as they were all in the sweaters from Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George were in blue sweaters with big yellow G and F respectively. Ron’s sweater was yellow this year, and he was clearly pleased, since it wasn’t maroon. Percy Weasley was arguing with them, arms trapped to his sides making it clear that he had been forced into his sweater. 

“See, Percy!” Fred said with a grin as Harry sat down with them. “We’re all wearing them! Even Harry got one!” 

“Harry’s is better then ours,” George said, reaching across the table to pick at Harry’s warm, soft, emerald sweater. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.” 

Harry laughed as he watched the Weasley’s nudge and argue with each other. He missed this aspect of his family. The meals shared together, talking and smiling. Sure, it wasn’t nearly as loud as the Weasley’s but it was close enough. 

After they ate, Harry and Ron went out to the pitch to test out Harry’s new broom. It was fast. Faster then the school brooms. And Harry loved to pull spectacular dives with it. Ron made snowballs to toss in random directions for Harry to chase after and catch, a simple but fun way to practice for the game. 

When they were done, they went back inside, and Harry said goodbye to return, finally, to the Slytherin dorms. Snape had returned, moving things around on the notice board, and gave Harry a nod when he entered. The fireplace was going, now, and after dropping off his broom, Harry returned to the Common Room to read his Salazar book. 

He was finally making some a dent in the thick book, learning more about his house’s founder. The war between Wizard and Muggle had occurred because some muggle-born witches had accidentally revealed themselves to their families. It started a witch hunt, and when they got to close to a wizarding settlement, a full on war started. Harry was horrified to learn that some witches and wizards had actually betrayed the defending wizarding community, and made the war even worse. 

Harry learned that, once the war was over, Salazar had pressed for a full separation of Muggle and Wizarding world. And he carried that opinion to Hogwarts when the school was founded. He had thought they should only teach the pure wizards, that only the ones who would live only in the wizarding world and would forget the muggle world should be taught. 

Snapping the book closed, Harry set it aside. He should be going to bed, but he couldn’t. Not after reading that. So, taking the book back to his trunk, Harry got out the cloak and decided to go to the library. He could use the cloak to check the Restricted Section to look for books on Nicolas Flamel. 

Carrying a lamp, Harry slinked silently through the halls and up towards the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated this section from the rest, Harry held up the lamp to read the titles. Most of them had peeling, faded letters, written in languages Harry didn’t know. He recognized some of them from the library at home, though he hadn’t read them. He even found the Salazar Slytherin book, though he wasn’t sure why it would be in the Restricted Section. 

But he had to start somewhere, so he set down the lamp on the floor, and looked along the bottom shelf. He grabbed the first one that caught his eye, a thick black volume with faded silver letters, and pulled it out. It was heavy, so he set it on the floor to open it, only to stumble back in shock when it let out a piercing scream. He stumbled back, knocking his lamp over, making it go out. 

Panicking, Harry could hear thundering footsteps coming into the library over the screaming book. Thinking fast, Harry pulled the lamp back under the cloak with him as he made a run for it. Ducking past Filch in the doorway, Harry turned and started back towards the dungeons as the screaming was cut off with a snap. Filch had found the open book. 

Only stopping once he was far enough that he couldn’t see the light of Filch’s lamp, Harry stopped by the entrance of the Great Hall to catch his breath. He slid down against the closed doors, the books screams still echoing in his ears. There were footsteps coming closer, and Harry quickly got up, pressing as flat to the wall as he could. 

“You asked me to come directly to you, Professor,” Filch said as he came into view, facing someone else that was approaching. “If anyone was wandering around at night. And somebody’s been in the library Restricted Section.” 

Harry clamped a hand around his mouth to keep from gasping as Snape stepped into his view. 

“The Restricted Section?” Snape asked, frowning deeply. “Well, they can’t be far. We’ll catch them.” 

Harry watched the two men walk off, and quickly continued back down down to the dungeons. He had something new to think about… Snape was worried about someone sneaking around at night. It wasn’t exactly proof, but Harry would take it that Snape was worried about someone trying to steal whatever was beneath the trapdoor. 

Snape wasn’t trying to steal it. But someone else was. 


	11. Norbert

When everyone returned from break, they had pretty much given up on finding anything in books. They simply spent their ten minute breaks skimming various books, not really holding out hope to find anything. And so, weeks went on, and they were back to classes and homework, and in Harry’s case, Quidditch. 

Harry sighed, leaning back on his bed on evening and tossing aside his half finished homework to reach for a chocolate frog instead. Most of the other boys in his dorm were either already done with the homework (Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini), or ignoring it entirely (Crabbe and Goyle).

“You seem quite down for the only first year allowed a broom and on the Quidditch team,” Malfoy drawled. The blond had been quite salty about the Nimbus since he’d returned. “Really, I don’t know what you could possibly be upset about.” 

“Nothing,” Harry sighed, stuffing the frog into his mouth, glancing at the card. “Dumbledore again. Really, that old-” 

Jerking up, Harry nearly choked on the chocolate in his mouth. He stared at the card, eyes wide as the other Slytherin’s stared at him. The universe had to be playing some kind of trick on him, because they had been looking for months, and  _ this _ was were Harry found it?! 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Harry groaned, running a hand over his face. “Hey, Nott? Remember when I asked about Nicolas Flamel? Does alchemy ring any bells?” 

For a moment, Nott looked confused. Then, as if a light had gone on, Nott whirled around and started rummaging in the pile of books by his bed. Eventually, he pulled a book out, and, instead of turning to a page in it, turned it over to mumble to himself. 

“Alexios… search for… Philosopher's Stone, created by alchemist Nicolas Flamel!” Not looked up, looking pleased with himself. “I knew I read that name somewhere. I just haven’t opened the book yet! But Nicolas Flamel. He’s famous for creating something called a Philosopher’s Stone. What exactly it is, I’m not sure.” 

“Could I borrow that, then?” Harry asked, pointing to the book. “To figure out what it is?” 

At that, Nott blushed, and tucked the book away. “Er, no… Sorry, Alistair, but I would rather keep this one with me. I’m sure the library has a book about alchemy you could check.” 

Harry didn’t say that together, he, Ron, and Hermione had read, or at least skimmed, what seemed to be the entire library in just two months. But he let it go, and picked up his homework again. He was disappointed that Nott wouldn’t let him check the book, but at least he had learned something new. Whatever the Philosopher’s Stone was, it just might be what was down that trapdoor. 

XxXXxX

Much to his surprise, when he told Ron and Hermione about what Nott had said the next day, Hermione actually smacked her own forehead and pulled a missive book out of her bag. Harry barely had time to share a shocked look before she was eagerly flipping through it. Had she been caring that around with her since she’d gotten it? How long had she even had it? 

“Ah-ha!” she said dramatically, turning the book around towards them and stabbing the page with her finger. “Right there. I’ve had the book for weeks, and I never thought to look in here. But it’s right there.” 

Harry leaned his head in, frowning at the passage Hermione was pointing at. 

_ The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. _

_ There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight). _

“A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying,” Harry gasped. “No wonder someone’s after it… But now we know what they’re trying to steal, and why, but not who, when, or how.” 

“Uh, we do already know who,” Ron argued. “Clearly, it’s Snape. I mean, he already made a grab for it once. Remember Halloween?” 

Harry knew he should probably tell them about what he heard on Christmas, but he knew they wouldn’t believe him. They had their minds set that it was Snape. Clearly, they weren’t going to change their minds… At least it meant they could stop their book searching. They knew what was behind the dog. 

XxXXxX

With nothing else to research, Hermione had focused solely on her school work. She started color coding her notes, creating study schedules for each subject. Honestly, Harry thought she was going a bit overboard, but Ron thought she had gone completely mental. Especially since she kept badgering Harry and Ron to do the same. 

It wouldn’t have been to bad, if not for their teachers seeming to think the same thing as Hermione. Suddenly, they were piled with so much homework that Harry had to start taking his homework to Quidditch practice with him. He could barely concentrate during their next match, against Ravenclaw, and almost lost the Snitch to Cho Chang. They had won, but not by much. 

They had spotted Hagrid in the library once, and while it had been odd, it reminded them that they should take the time to go see him during their easter holidays. So, all together, they went on down to Hagrid’s hut. It was a shock to find all the curtains pulled closed, and even more shocking when Hagrid asked who it was when they knocked. 

When they finally made it inside, it felt like they had stepped into an oven. Even though it was a warm day already, a fire was roaring. Hagrid offered them tea, but they refused. 

“So,” Hagrid said, shuffling around. “What brings you three down here?” 

“We just wanted to come and see you,” Harry said, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “Why is it so hot in here?” 

“Actually,” Hermione cut in. “We were wondering if you could tell us what’s guarding the Philosopher’s Stone apart from Fluffy.” 

Hagrid gaped at her, then turned disapproving eyes on Harry. “Now hold on a minute. I though yeh said you would tell them to leave it be.” 

“I told them what you told me,” Harry said honestly. “And they just kept looking into it. But I have to say, I’m curious to. What all is guarding the stone?” 

“I can’t tell yeh,” Hagrid huffed. “I don’ know meself, and yeh know too much already, so I wouldn’ tell yeh if I could. That stone’s here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts- I s’ppose yeh’ve worked that out an’ all? Beats me how yeh even know abou’ Fluffy.” 

The three of them all shared a look. They actually hadn’t known about Gringotts. But if someone was willing to break into the most secure bank in all of wizarding history, and steal from goblins, then they would have no problems with breaking into a school to try again. 

“Oh, come on, Hagrid,” Hermione said, her voice warm and flattering. “You might not want to tell us, but you do know. You know everything that goes on around here. We only wondered who had done the guarding, really.” She paused, then put emphasis on her next words. “We only wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.” 

Harry couldn’t help but stare. Hermione had always had a sharp wit, but he had never thought she would have a such a way with words as well. Hagrid was practically beaming, his chest swelled up with pride. 

“Well, I don’ s’ppose it it could hurt ter tell yeh that… Let’s see… He borrowed Fluffy from me, then some o’ the teachers did enchantments. Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall. Professor Quirrell, an’ Dumbledore himself did somethin’, o’ course. Oh, and Professor Snape.” 

“Snape?” Ron asked, sounding anxious. Harry could tell that one of his friends was going to go off on how Snape was trying to steal it again, and quickly cut in before they could say anything.

“You’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren’t you, Hagrid?” he asked, giving Ron a kick under the table to shut him up. “And you wouldn’t tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?” 

“Not a soul knows except me an’ Dumbledore,” Hagrid announced proudly. 

“Good,” Harry sighed, then fussed with his collar again. “Hagrid, can we open a window? It’s boiling in here.” 

“Can’t, Harry,” Hagrid said, and glanced at the fireplace. “Sorry.” 

Harry followed his gaze, and stared. In the heart of the fire, under the kettle, was a huge black egg. He recognized it, vaguely, from one of his books that he had read. One from Freya. It was a dragon egg. 

“Hagrid,” he asked, voice sharp and tense. “Where did you get that?” 

The others turned to look at it as well, and Hermione looked horrified. 

“Won it in a game o’ cards las’ night,” Hagrid said, sounding almost proud. “I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ a stranger asked me ter play. Think he was quite glad to be rid of it, ter be honest.” 

“But it’s against our laws,” Ron said. “Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks’ Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. And they’re dangerous. You can’t tame a dragon. Only one person ever has, and it was under unknown circumstances.” 

“And what are you going to do when it hatches?” Hermione added. 

“I’ve bin doin’ some readin’,” Hagrid said, pulling a large book out from under his pillow to show them. “Got this outta the library. Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit. It’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but it’s all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, ‘cause their mothers breathe it on em, see. An’ when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o’ brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An’ see here! How ter recognize diff’rent eggs! What I got there’s a Norwegian Ridgeback. They’re rare, them.” 

“Hagrid,” Hermione said slowly. “You live in a wooden house.” 

Her words went unrecognized, and Hagrid simply hummed merrily as he stoked the fire. The three of them shared a look, and Harry sighed. 

“I’ll owl Freya,” he said, getting up from his seat to lead the way out of the hut. 

“I’ll send one to Charlie,” Ron added, then sighed. “Wonder what it’s like to have a peaceful life.” 

XxXXxX

Two days later, Harry got a letter back from Freya. She was horrified to know that some strange man had had the egg, and was more then willing to help. She was already in contact with Charlie Weasley, working out a plan. With the help of Ba’ul, she could come get the egg in a week and take it to Charlie in Romania. Until then, Hagrid would just have to be careful, in case it watched. 

They took the news to Hagrid, only to find that the egg was already hatching. The little baby dragon was cute. For two seconds. Then it spat up a ball of fire and set Hagrid’s beard on fire. The large man managed to pat it out, only for the dragon hatchling to snap its sharp, pointed fangs at Hagrid’s fingers, narrowly missing him. 

“Hagrid,” Harry said, keeping a close eye on the dragon as he spoke. “I sent an own to my sister, Freya, and she’s agreed to take your dragon to a safe place.” 

“What?” Hagrid jumped, turning to stare at Harry. “Norbert is isn’ goin’ anywhere. He belongs here with me.” 

“He belongs somewhere that he can thrive,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes at the baby dragon when it coiled to make a dive for Harry’s fingers. It seemed to sense that Harry wouldn’t let it get away with biting him like Hagrid would, and backed off to hiss at Ron instead. “Freya knows what she’s doing. The only Magizoologist to domesticate a dragon, remember? She’ll take good care of… Norbert.” 

They had agreed to not tell Hagrid that Freya wasn’t the one who would care for the dragon. It was better that Hagrid not know that ‘Norbert’ would be taken to Charlie Weasley in Romania. It would only set Hagrid off again, and they couldn’t let the half-giant get hurt by this. If anyone saw it, Hagrid could go to Azkaban. 

“Yer right,” Hagrid sniffled, and Harry winced. The large man was already attached. “Yer right. He… He deserves to be with his own kind…” 

Harry sighed in relief, and he shared a look with the others. Now, all they had to do was make sure Hagrid wasn’t killed in the coming week. Shouldn’t be to hard… 

XxXXxX 

It was  _ extremely  _ hard. 

They took turns going down to Hagrid’s hut, to try and help control Norbert. Harry went the most, since he knew that if he showed any sign of weakness, the hatchling wouldn’t hesitate to sink its teeth into the meat of his leg. He already did it to Hagrid. Thankfully, Hagrid wore very, very thick boots. It didn’t stop the hatchling from trying to sneak up on Harry, though. 

Norbert got Ron three days in. The dragon had sunk his teeth into Ron’s hand, nearly taking off one of his fingers, and he had to wrap his hand to keep anyone from noticing. He hadn’t wanted to go to Madam Pomfrey, but then the bite had turned green and swollen, so he had to. Norbert’s fangs were poisonous. Madam Pomfrey didn’t believe Ron when he said it was a dog bite, obviously, but she didn’t press for answers. 

“It’ll be fine,” Harry told Hermione when the day came and Ron still couldn’t use his swollen hand. “Only two of us can fit under the cloak with the crate, anyway.” 

“I’m still worried,” Hermione said, biting her lip. “I have a bad feeling. But… We have to do this. I’ll meet you down at Hagrid’s at 11:30, okay?” 

With a nod, Harry turned and made his way down to the dungeons. He was sure that they would be just fine. They had the cloak, and Nikoa almost knew the night patrols routes by heart. They could get Norbert up to the tallest tower and pass him off to Freya. 

Harry laid in bed for a few hours when curfew hit. He waited, silent, until he was fairly sure everyone was asleep. Then, slowly, Harry slipped out of bed, grabbed Nikoa and the cloak, and tip toed his way out of the Slytherin dorms. 

“ _ Remember, _ ” Harry hissed to Nikoa in a whisper. “ _ Hermione doesn’t know about you, so only speak when you think you need to. _ ” 

“ _ Of course, _ ” Nikoa hissed back, slithering down to hide in the neck of Harry’s coat. He felt a little bad, since he’d almost been ignoring the snakes in the recent months. So had been going on, after all, with Nicolas Flamel, then the stone, and now Norbert. Honavi still went to class with him, but Nikoa seemed to be more of a night snake, exploring all that that the castle had to offer in the hours of moonlight. 

He met Hermione at Hagrid’s, and they had a bit of a moment as Hagrid said goodbye. It was kind of sad, how attached to Norbert Hagrid was, but that was just Hagrid. He was very sentimental. 

When it was time to go, Harry tossed the cloak over Norbert’s crate and he and Hermione slipped under it on either end. He had convinced Hermione to let him lead. Though it was mostly so Nikoa could have a better view of where they were. They slipped by prefect patrols, and teachers, even passed Filch, but they had to pause when Malfoy nearly bumped into them, looking rather confused as he made his way down the hall. It confused Harry to, but for now, he would ignore it. 

They reached the tower without any issues, and simply waited as midnight drew closer. Then, as the moon sat high in the sky, Harry saw a familiar shape emerge from behind the clouds. Hermione took a step back, clearly just as surprised as Harry, when Ba’ul landed on the lip of the tower, Freya and Kale slipping off his back. Harry had known that they couldn’t fly a broom and carry Norbert at the same time, but he hadn’t been expecting  _ this _ . 

“Don’t you worry, Harry,” Kale said with a grin, giving Harry a clap on the back. “We got him.” 

And they did. They moved they crate to the edge of the tower, and climbed back up to Ba’ul’s back. Then, with a beat of his wings, Ba’ul was up in the air, reaching out with his talon’s to grab hold of the crate. The box creaked under Ba’ul’s strength, but held as the dragon took off into the sky. And just like that, they were gone. 

“Finally,” Harry sighed, letting out a breath when they were really out of sight. “Now we can relax and focus on exams and-” 

“Alistair,” a voice panted from behind them, out of breath. “There you are…” 

“Malfoy?” Hermione gasped, as Harry hid the cloak behind his back. “What are you doing here?” 

Taking notice of Hermione, Malfoy straightened, narrowing his eyes at her. “I saw Alistair leaving the dorm over an hour ago. I came to stop him before he was caught.” 

Harry groaned, running a hand over his face. “Malfoy, you could have gotten caught. Now we both have to sneak back without being seen.”

Clearly, Malfoy hadn’t thought about that, but it was to late anyway. Harry had agreed with Hermione and Ron when they had talked about the cloak. The blond had a tendency to stick his nose in things he shouldn’t. And now, they would likely get caught because Malfoy had to shove his nose where it didn’t belong. 

So, Harry tried to lead the way back. Nikoa was doing his best to warn Harry of people coming their way, but Malfoy just kept talking from the back of their sneaking line. Hermione tried to shoosh him, but that only made it worse, and Harry was pulled in so many different directions that he almost literally bumped into McGonagall. 

He tried to back up, but Hermione was so focused on trying to get Malfoy to be quiet, and Malfoy was so focused on telling her off, that Harry rammed into them. Like a domino’s, they fell, landing in a pile on the floor as Mcgonagall turned to face them. And when she did, she did not look pleased. 


	12. Forbidden Forest

“Of all the things to do,” McGonagall was still scolding them, ten minutes later, as they waited for Snape. “Sneaking out, past midnight, no less! Honestly! I expected better from you! All three of you! Ten- No, twenty points! From each of you!” 

Harry looked down, looking and feeling ashamed. McGonagall was one of his favorites, and he hated disappointing her. He wasn’t very good in her class, sure, but she was always so nice. And she got Snape to put him on the Quidditch team! 

“And detention,” a dark voice sneered. “For all three of them. And really, Minerva. It should be fifty points...” 

He couldn’t stop himself from wincing. Snape was mad. Furious, even. Harry couldn’t bring himself to look at the man, fearful of his disappointed gaze. 

They waited for a while as McGonagall and Snape discussed their punishment. Harry glanced at Malfoy, who looked just as ashamed as Harry felt. For once, they were on the same page. A glance at Hermione showed that she was just as ashamed. 

When their Heads of Houses came back, Hermione was walked away by McGonagall, and Harry and Malfoy were led by the back of their necks back down to the dungeons by Snape. 

“You both will be serving detention with Hagrid tomorrow night,” Snape snarled to them, scowling down at them as he pushed them into the Common Room. “You will also be serving additional detentions with me Saturday afternoons to make up for your idiocy. Now, return to your beds before I add Tuesday afternoons to your detention as well.” 

Seeing how Harry had Quidditch on tuesdays, and it was actually getting interesting now that Nina had brought some practice Snitches back with her, he hurried back to the dorm room. Malfoy was only a few steps behind him, and they were both quickly in bed. Harry was a bit uncomfortable, still hiding the cloak in his shirt, but he managed to fall asleep. 

XxXXxX

The next day came all to fast for Harry. He was tired. It had been a long night, with them being out so late, and he woke up with tired eyes and a sore back. 

With a yawn, Harry got himself ready for his day. He served a detention with Snape, then went to study with Ron to tell him about what had happened the night before. His friend was rather disappointed that he couldn’t have been there, just to see Malfoy’s face. Ron wasn’t disappointed he would be missing out on a detention, though. 

There was a game that day. Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff. Snape was reffing, and while he seemed biased, Skyla got the Snitch rather quickly, and secured the win for Gryffindor. After the match was what was really important, though. Detention with Hagrid. 

They met Hagrid down at his hut just after dinner. The large man was getting lanterns ready, with Fang laid out on the ground like Hagrid’s second shadow. Harry frowned, picking up one of the lanterns when Hagrid motioned them to. 

“Hagrid,” Harry said, eyeing the half-giant suspiciously. “What are we doing?” 

“Goin’ in ter the forest, o’ course!” Hagrid boomed, making Harry’s stomach drop. 

“The forest?” Malfoy practically shrieked. “We can’t go in there! There are…  _ things  _ in there. Like werewolves! And other monsters!” 

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” Hagrid countered. “Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.” 

Malfoy looked like he was going to argue, so Harry elbowed him. When the blond was looking at him, Harry glared, and shook his head, before turning back to Hagrid. “So, what are we doing? The faster we get it done, the faster we get to leave, right?” 

After a quick chat about safety, Hagrid led them into the woods. He led them to a smear of something silvery and glittery, where he explained about the unicorns. Harry wasn’t sure why anyone would want to hurt one. After all, they’re very gentle creatures. They just prefer their solitude from most of humanity. 

“Alright,” Hagrid said as they reached a fork in the path they were following. “We’ll be slittin’ in ter two groups. One of us will go ter the left, and the other, the right.” 

“I want Fang,” Malfoy instantly said, seeming to eye Fang’s long teeth. 

“Then I’ll go with you,” Harry said, not really wanting to be the one to tell his housemate that Fang was as skittish as a rabbit that knew it was being hunted. “So Hermione can go with Hagrid.” 

“Right then,” Hagrid boomed. “Then me an’ Hermione’ll go one way, an’ the two of you the other with Fang. If any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? An’ if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an’ we’ll come find yeh. So, be careful.” 

Harry watched them go, before turning to lead the way down the path. Malfoy seemed to hesitate, but Fang followed him, so Malfoy did to. They walked with their eyes mostly on the ground, looking for signs of a hurt unicorn. They would hide behind nearby trees if Harry felt anything was off, and Malfoy looked absolutely terrified. 

After a while, Harry held up a hand, eyes wide. There was something white gleaming brightly on the ground in the dark. When they approached, Harry felt sick at what he saw. Unicorn’s were beautiful creatures, with long slender legs and pearly white mane, but dead… Dead, it was a sick image, with legs twisted about and a mane spread out on dark, matted leaves. 

Harry moved to reach out to it, his heart aching for the poor thing, when a bush at the edge of the little clearing shook. Standing, Harry turned and tugged Malfoy back into the trees, hiding in their own bush. Just as they were hidden away, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground and headed for the unicorn. It reached the poor thing, and lowered its head to the cut flesh, as sickening cucking sound filling their ears. 

Malfoy let out a piercing scream, not unlike that of the book Harry had found in the Restricted Section of the library, and fled. Fang was close behind, tail between his legs.

The hooded thing raised its head, turning right towards Harry. Unicorn blood dribbled down its front as it rose to its feet, moving swiftly towards him. Harry was frozen, eyes wide for only a second before a pain split across his temple. It was like the feast, a burning that cut through his scar. Only this time, it didn’t disappear after a second. 

Blinded by the pain, Harry stumbled back, tripping over a fallen branch and landing on his rear. He heard something like hooves as his ears started to ring, and a shadow lept over him from behind before the pain faded. Blinking, he looked up with watery eyes to see a centaur standing not far from him. 

“Are you all right?” the centaur asked, pulling Harry to his feet. 

“Yes,” he said, hand still pressed to his scar. “Thank you… What was that?” 

The centaur didn’t answer him, instead starting to lead Harry away. “You are the Potter boy. The one Morita now calls brother.” 

“Morita,” Harry said, frowning. “My sister? You know her?” 

“I do,” the centaur said. “I am Firenze, and it not safe for you here. Not now.” 

“But what was that?” he pressed. “What was that thing? Why kill the unicorn?” 

“Do you know what unicorn blood is used for?” 

Startled by the sudden question, Harry thought. He hadn’t seen it in any of his books… “No. We’ve only used the horn and tail hair in Potions.” 

“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,” Firenze said, low and sad. “Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.” 

Harry was tempted to ask who would be that desperate. Be was. But he had a feeling he already knew. A man who many believe to already be dead. A man who many believed to be more monster then man. A man who many feared his name alone. And a man who would probably love to get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone.

“Harry!” Hermione’s voice pierced through the stillness of the trees. “Harry, are you all right?” 

Harry looked up as she and Hagrid came running down the path to meet them, Hagrid breathing hard. He smiled at them. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “The unicorn is dead, Hagrid. It’s in the clearing back that way.” 

As Hagrid hurried off to check, Firenze bent to speak in a hushed tone to him. “This is where I leave you. You are safe here. Good luck, Harry Potter.” 

Harry squirmed. “I don’t-” Firenze galloped away. “-go by that name…” 

Turning back to Hermione, Harry looked her dead in the eye. “We have to talk to Ron.” 

XxXXxX

“Whoever is after the stone wants to get it for Voldemort,” Harry said as they sat at the little table in the kitchens the next morning. “And Voldemort’s waiting in the forest for his servant to bring it to him. Once he’s got the Stone, Voldemort will come find me, to finish me off, for defeating him as a baby.” 

“Stop saying his name,” Ron hissed in a shaky whisper. 

“Harry,” Hermione said, looking at him with wide eyes. “Everyone says Dumbledore’s the only one You Know Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You Know Who won’t dare to touch you. So until Snape tries to steal the Stone, there’s nothing we can do but focus on exams.” 

Harry wanted to argue. Remind her that it couldn’t be Snape, but he knew that argument wouldn’t go anywhere. So he let it drop. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest chapter so far, but don't worry. There will be more. There will be more changes starting in Year Two, though, and I got curious... What's everyone's favorite and least favorite parts of each book?


	13. Final Preparations

With the threat of Voldemort hanging over his head, Harry wasn’t sure how he passed exams. The heat inside the room they did written exams was boiling hot, and took hours. Harry’s hand had started cramping halfway through. The practical exams weren’t quite as bad. Snape breathing down their necks as they attempted to brew Forgetfulness Potion alone from memory had been brutal, though. 

Harry did what he could to ignore the strange stabs of pain he got in his scar that he kept getting. Neville had suggested that it was exam nerves, and Zabini seemed to agree. But Harry knew it had to do with the hooded figure that he was sure was Voldemort. Though Malfoy didn’t say anything, Harry knew that seeing the figure had disturbed Malfoy as well. 

“No more studying,” Ron said after they had finished their final exam, and the three of them sat on the grass in the courtyard. “You could look more cheerful, Harry. We’ve got a week before we find out how badly we’ve done. No need to worry yet.” 

“It’s not that,” Harry told him, rubbing at his forehead. He actually thought he had done pretty well, on most of them at least. “I just wish I knew what this means. My scar keeps hurting. It’s happened before, but never often like this.” 

“Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione suggested. “She might have a potion you could take.” 

“But I’m not sick. I think it’s a warning. Means danger is coming.” 

“Relax, Harry,” Ron drawled, to hot to get worried at the moment. “Hermione’s right. The Stone is safe where it is as long as Dumbledore is around. Besides, we never got any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. Nearly had his leg ripped off last time. Doubt he’ll try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play professional Quidditch before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down.” 

He let it drop, for now, but he couldn’t help the feeling in his chest as he watched the sky. An owl flew overhead, a note in its beak. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore, much less tell anyone how to get past Fluffy. But still, something wasn’t adding up. Whoever was after the Stone, because Harry refused to believe it was Snape, had to know that Hagrid was they key to getting past Fluffy. So why hadn’t anyone tried to get to Hagrid? Torture him, question him? Even bribe him with something he really… wanted… 

With a gasp, Harry jumped to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” Ron asked, sounding less worried and more sleepy. 

“We’ve got to go see Hagrid,” Harry said sharply, reaching down to pull them both to their feet. “Now.” 

“Why?” Hermione asked as Harry led them, sprinting, towards Hagrid’s hut. 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd?” Harry said, nearly slipping as he abandoned the path to sprint across the grass. “That what Hagrid wants more then anything is a dragon, and a stranger just happens to be at the pub when Hagrid is, with an egg in his pocket? How many people would just wander around with dragon eggs if it’s against the law? A little to convenient they found Hagrid, don’t you think?” 

“What are you talking about?” Ron wheezed, but Harry ignored him as they came up to Hagrids. 

“Hullo,” Hagrid said from where he was sitting outside in a chair, shelling peas. “Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?” 

“Yes,” Ron panted. “Please.” 

“No,” Harry said. “We’re in a hurry. Hagrid, I’ve got to ask you something. The night you won Norbert. At the pub? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?” 

“Dunno,” Hagrid said, casually brushing off the question. “Lot o’ funny folks in the Hog’s Head. Mighta bin a dragon dealer. So I never saw his face, since he kept his hood up.” 

“What did you talk to him about?” Harry asked, voice sharp. “Did you mention Hogwarts?” 

“Mighta,” Hagrid confessed, though he still looked confused, trying to remember. “Yeah, he asked what I did, an’ I told him I was gamekeeper here. He asked about the creatures I look after. We got to talkin’, I said I always wanted a dragon, an’ then… I can’ remember to well, ‘cause he kept buying me drinks. Let’s see… Yeah, then he said he had a dragon egg, an’ we could play cards fer it if I wanted, but he had ter be sure I could handle it. Didn’ want it ter go ter any old home. So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy.” 

Taking a deep breath, harry tried to keep himself calm. “Did he… seem interested in Fluffy?” 

“Well, yeah. How many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy’s a piece o’ ckae if yeh know how to calm him down. Jus’ play him a bit o’ music, an’ he’ll go stright off ter sleep-” Suddenly, Hagrid looked horrified. “I shouldn’ta told yeh that! Forget I said it! Hey! Where’re yeh goin’?” 

Harry had turned to run back up the grounds to the castle, Ron and hermione now hot on his heels. They had to find a teacher, someone who would listen to them. Whoever was going to steal the Stone for Voldemort knew how to get past Fluffy. They had known for  _ months _ . They knew Fluffy was still there, so whoever was going to steal it was going to do it soon. 

“No running in the halls,” a voice suddenly echoed behind them, over their pounding feet. “But what are you three even doing inside?” 

“Professor McGonagall,” Harry said in a rush. “We need to see Professor Dumbledore.” 

“See Professor Dumbledore?” she asked, rather suspicious. “I’m sorry, but Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago. An urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic came and he flew off for London at once.” 

Harry felt like he was going to be sick. “Professor, please. You have to call him back. It’s about the Philosopher’s Stone-” 

Her mouth dropped open, staring in shock. “How do you….?” 

“Professor,” Hermione tried. “We know that someone is going to try and steal the Stone. We have to talk to Professor Dumbledore.” 

For a moment, she simply eyes them with a mixture of shock and suspicion. “Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow. I don’t know how you round out  about the stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it. It’s to well protected. Now, I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.” 

They watched her go, but they didn’t return outside. They knew, with Dumbledore gone, Voldemort’s man would try for the Stone. They had everything they could possibly need. A way to get past Fluffy. They probably knew who had placed guards on the Stone. And with the teachers unsuspecting, they could waltz in and just take it. 

“We could go to Snape,” Harry said, frowning in thought as he looked at the ground. “McGonagall won’t listen to us, but he might. If we just talk to him, he can actually go down and check on it.” 

“But, Harry, we can’t,” Hermione pressed. “Snape is the one who’s trying to steal the Stone. If we tell him what we know, we’ll be in even more danger then we are.” 

“But he’s not the one who’s-” 

“The one who is what, Alistair?” 

The three of them jumped, turning around to find Snape walking towards them. Harry opened his mouth to tell Snape everything, only for Ron to elbow him. He shot him a look, and turned back to their Potions professor. 

“Nothing, Sir,” Harry said. “I, uh… Hermione wants to write a book. She… asked us for advice on it…” 

Harry felt his face blaze with the half cocked lies. He could practically hear Ron and Hermione groaning mentally behind him. Snape was even looking at him like he had out right told him they were up to no good. It was embarrassing, really. 

But instead of Snape cracking down on them, he pursed his lips. “Then I suggest that you stop loitering in the hallway. Hanging around like this, people will think you’re… up to something.” 

Turning, Snape walked away, striding off in the direction of the staffroom. Harry sighed, turning back to Ron and Hermione. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do. Everyone is out of the castle right now, so the Common Rooms are empty. That gives us three hours to get everything we need together before all the other students come back inside. Then, we’ll meet up a half hour of curfew.” 

“To do what?” Ron asked. “I mean, what could we possibly do?” 

“Harry means to get to the Stone first,” Hermione said, voice filled with horror, only to turn into a frown as she mumbled in thought. “I’ll have to go to the library. Make a list of things that could be protecting the Stone… Since we know who’s protecting it, I might be able to come up with a few ideas of what they used.” 

“You’re both crazy,” Ron said. “And I can’t believe that I’m going with you.” 

Harry grinned. “Then that’s it. We’re getting the Stone, tonight, before whoever is after it can.” 

With a nod to each other, the three of them went their separate ways, to get ready for their mission that night.

XxXXxX

Harry spent his three hours getting everything he thought they would need together. He emptied his school bag, tucking his wand and the cloak into it. For a minute, he had contemplated taking his broom, but decided against it. The wooden flute Hagrid had sent him for Christmas had been quickly added, since they would need it to put Fluffy to sleep if need be. 

He met with Hermione and Ron in the library to help check over the list of things they thought could be guarding the Stone. They wrote down counters for each of the possible things. That went into the bag when they cleaned up and went to dinner. They ate at their own tables that night. It was mostly so Harry could say goodnight to Nina, give a hidden goodbye, just in case he didn’t make it. Ron was doing something similar with the twins, and Hermione was writing a letter to her parents that Fred and George promised to take it to the owlery for her if she didn’t ask for it back from them tomorrow. They didn’t ask questions, so no reason to think they would rat them out. 

A half hour past curfew, Harry climbed out of bed, taking off his bathrobe to reveal himself to still be in his day clothes. A glance around the dorm showed all the others were still asleep. Or, rather, that everyone but Malfoy. His blond housemate was gone. Harry didn’t have time to worry about Malfoy, so he slid out of the room and through the Common Room towards the door. 

“Alistair?” a voice said, making Harry jump, whipping out his wand. Malfoy blinked from where he was sitting by the fireplace with a book. “You can put your wand away. I’m simply reading. But you don’t seem to be out here to read.” 

“Er, yeah,” Harry said slowly, inching his way to the door. “I was just… Sneaking out. To meet Hermione. And Ron. You aren’t going to call Snape and report me, are you?” 

For a moment Malfoy looked thoughtful, closing his book as he looked Harry over. Then, with a smile, he set the book aside and stood up. “I won’t say anything, as long as you don’t get caught. But, you’ll owe me a favor.” 

Standing by the door, Harry frowned, glancing at the clock. He had to get to Ron and Hermione as soon as he could, but… He could spare a second to deal with Malfoy. “Alright. What do you want?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Malfoy said. “But I’ll tell you when I do know.” 

Harry wanted to argue. Really, he did. But he didn’t have time to argue. It felt like a devil deal, but he needed to go. “Alright. I owe you one.  _ If _ I don’t get caught.” 

Turning, Harry quickly fled the room. Once he was out of the Common Room, he pulled on his Invisibility Cloak, and hurried to to grab Ron from the Hufflepuff Common Room before meeting Hermione on the third floor. He didn’t plan on telling them about his deal with Malfoy just yet, but if they survived, he would have to. After all, it could affect them to. 

For now, they would focus on getting the Stone. 


	14. Through the Trapdoor

When they reached Fluffy’s corridor, the door was already open. Considering they didn’t hear the raving barking of the three headed dog, Harry had no problems with opening the door. As the door creaked open, a low rumbling snore filled their ears. 

When three sets of noses started snuffling, Harry pulled out Hagrid’s flute, putting it to his lips. He blew into it, doing his best to play, though it wasn’t really a tune. It didn’t matter, though, since Fluffy dropped down, completely asleep. Ron went to the door, stepping over one of Fluffy’s legs. It swung up and open, and Ron knelt to look into it. 

“What do you see?” Hermione asked, voice anxious. 

“Nothing,” Ron said. “Just black, no light. There’s no way of climbing down either, so we’ll have to jump. So, who’s first?” 

Still playing the flute, Harry waved one of his hands to get their attention. Once he had it, he pointed to himself. 

“You want to go first?” his friend asked. “You sure? We don’t know how far this thing goes, and you’ll have to give the flute to Hermione.” 

Harry made a cutting motion, then pointed to Ron. He frowned, but took the flute from Harry. His playing was a bit more rough then Harry’s, but it was good enough to keep Fluffy asleep. So Harry walked to the trap door, bending down to look into it. 

“What do you think it could be, Hermione?” He asked, pulling out his wand as he tried to remember the lighting charm. “Anything that needs to be kept in the dark?” 

“You’d have to be more specific,” she huffed, still eyeing Fluffy as she pulled out their idea list. “There are tons of things that need darkness to survive.” 

“Defense?” Harry tried. “Charms? Herbology?” 

“Herbology!” Hermione said, jumping over Fluffy’s paw to look down into the hole. “That’s it. Devil’s Snare. Harry, do you remember the Light Beam spell? We can use it to drive back the Devil’s Snare, but we’ll have to jump right after.” 

With a nod, Harry waved Ron over as Hermione put their list back into his bag. Together, he and Hermione aimed their wands, and spoke in unison. The Lumos Solem spell shot twin beams of light into the dark, lighting up the room below. They watched the tendrils slink back, and pulled back their wands to grab Ron’s arms. Harry could see the plant starting to go back into place, so Harry jumped, pulling Ron and Hermione behind him. 

XxXXxX

Down under the Devil’s Snare, they found themselves in a small stone passageway that sloped ever so slightly downward. They could hear the trickling of water rolling down the walls. It was cold, and Harry stood from where he had landed after the jump and looked around for where his wand had gone. Scooping it up, Harry looked around until his eyes landed further down the hall. 

“There,” Harry said, pointing at the door. 

“Need a minute,” Ron wheezed, standing up as Hermione struggled to her feet. “Are you not winded? That was a hard fall…” 

“I’m fine,” Harry said, looking over them. “Are you ready to keep going?” 

“Yes,” Hermione said, dusting off her robes. “We need to hurry.” 

They made their way to the door, and paused to press their ears to it. There was a soft rusting and a gentle clinking sound coming from the other side of the door, and Harry glanced at Hermione. She was already looking through their list. Harry could see that she had crossed out their list of possible Herbology tasks. And from her face, she clearly wasn’t sure what could be on the other side. 

“It could be Charms,” she said. “Something metal and cloth could be charmed to move around. It can’t be potions, that’s for sure.” 

With a nod, Harry reached out, and turned the knob. Together, the three of them stepped into the room. It was a brightly lit chamber, with a high ceiling and strange glittering birds flying above. There was a broom hovering in the center of the room, and a heavy wooden door on the opposite side of the room. 

They went to the door first, Harry keeping an eye on the birds while Ron and Hermione worked on the door. There was something odd about them, but they weren’t being bombarded with sharp beaks and claws, so he guessed that he shouldn’t worry. The door, on the other hand, wouldn’t budge no matter how hard Ron tugged. Not even Hermione’s unlocking charm worked. 

“Now what?” Ron asked, frowning at the door. 

“The birds,” Harry said, squinting up at them. The were glittering… True, they were wizards, and magic could do basically anything, but birds dont normally glitter… 

“Harry’s right,” Hermione said. “They can’t just be here for decoration.” 

“But they’re not birds,” Harry said quickly. “They’re keys. We must need to use the broom to catch the right one. The key that unlocks the door.” 

“But there are hundreds of them! How will we know which one works?” 

“It’s a big, old fashioned one,” Ron said, eyeing the lock. “Probably silver. Like the handle.” 

With a nod, Harry ran to the broom and mounted it. Kicking off, he was quickly in the air, the keys darting away from him in every direction. He looked, trying to find the key Ron had described. Big… Old fashioned… Silver… There! A key with blue wings that were crumpled on one side. 

He darted after it, and, honestly, it probably should have been harder, but it was quickly caught. Harry went back down, ramming the struggling key into the lock. It worked, the door creaking open a crack, so Harry let the key do. It was flying oddly now that it had been caught twice. 

“Ready?” he asked the other two. When they nodded, he pushed the door open all the way, and led the way inside. 

XxXXxX

The next room, when they entered, was almost as dark as the room with the Devil’s Snare. They couldn’t see anything for a moment, before light flooded the room and nearly blinding them. When they blinked their eyes clear, they were met with quite the shocking sight. 

It was a massive chessboard made of white and black stone. They were standing behind the black pieces, each one towering taller then them. Across the board, the white faceless pieces were blocking the way to the door. 

“This has to be Professor McGonagall’s challenge,” Hermione said. “But what do we do?” 

“We’ve got to play our way across the room,” Ron said, that spark Harry always saw when his friend found a new opponent shining in his eyes. “I think we’re going to have to be chessmen. Neither of you are that good at chess, not to offend you-” 

“We’re not offended,” Harry said, quick and sharp. There were only three tasks left to get to the Stone, and excluding this one. They couldn’t be to far behind the one who planned on stealing the Stone. That, or it was already in Voldemort’s hands. “Just tell us what to do.” 

“Okay. Harry, you take the place of that bishop. And Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle. I’ll be a knight.” 

They each got into position, with the pieces they were replacing sliding off the board. Once they were in place, one of the white pawns slid two spaces forward. Harry took deep breaths, keeping himself calm, as Ron gave orders to the pieces. Every time one of their black pieces were taken, the white ones showed no mercy, smashing the black stone and throwing them off the board. Hermione flinched each time, and Harry would tense when a white piece came to close, but Ron knew what he was doing. 

After what felt like long hours, watching marble white smash onyx black, and Ron running around the board to take out a white piece in turn, Ron stood before the queen, thinking. 

“We’re nearly there,” Ron said softly, watching as the white queen turned her blank face on him. “That’s it… Yes, it’s the only way. I have to be taken.” 

“What?!” Hermione shrieked, harry to shocked to speak as his stomach churned. “No!” 

“That’s chess!” Ron snapped at her. “You have to make some sacrifices! If I love to that space there, the Queen will come for me, and take me. That leaves Harry free to checkmate the king!” 

“But-” 

“Do you want to stop Snape or not?”

“Ron,” Harry said, fists clenched. It wasn’t Snape, but now wasn’t the time to argue. “Is there no other way?” 

Taking a deep breath, Ron looked Harry dead in the eye. “If you don’t hurry, he’ll already have the Stone. It’s our best option. But you can’t hang around once you’ve won.” 

In turn, Harry eyed Ron before giving him a sharp nod. “Do it.” 

“Harry!” Hermione shrieked again, but Ron had already made his move. 

He took two steps forward, then one to the right, and just as he thought, once he stopped, the white queen pounced. She lifted her arm, swinging it down on Ron’t head and dragging him off the board before returning to her spot on the board. The spot that was far, far from where Harry would be. 

With shaky legs, Harry moved diagonally to the right three spaces, and scowled at the white king. It took off its crown, tossing it to Harry’s feet as a sign of their victory. Harry scooped it up, mostly as a half hearted ‘fuck you’ to the living stone, and ran with Hermione towards the next door, shoving it in his bag. 

“What if he’s-” 

“He’ll be fine,” Harry told her, cutting Hermione off before she could ask. If she did, Harry wasn’t sure he would be able to focus. “Who’s left?” 

“We’ve had Sprout’s Devil’s Snare, and Flitwick must have charmed the keys to fly. McGonagall would have transfigured the chessmen, so that leaves Quirrell, Snape, and Dumbledore.” 

“And Dumbledore’s is probably last,” Harry said, as they slowed, reaching another door. “Ready?” 

At Hermione’s nod, Harry cracked the door open. 

XxXXxX

“That’s absolutely foul,” Hermione hissed as they stepped around the massive troll. She was covering her mouth with one hand as her eyes watered. 

“I’m just glad we didn’t have to fight it,” Harry said, remembering the one they had faced at Halloween. “Let’s go. I can’t breath in here.” 

They moved onto the next room, but no sooner had they crossed the doorway, fire sprang up on either end of them. In front, blocking the door to Dumbledore’s task, was a dark black blaze, with purple flames blocking the way back. In the center of the room was a table, with seven different colored, shaped, and sized bottles lined across it. And beside them, a letter. 

“Snape’s task,” Harry said as Hermione picked up the letter, reading it over her shoulder when she opened it. 

_ Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, _ _   
_ _ Two of us will help you, which ever you would find, _ _   
_ _ One among us seven will let you move ahead, _ _   
_ _ Another will transport the drinker back instead, _ _   
_ _ Two among our number hold only nettle wine, _ _   
_ _ Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line. _ _   
_ _ Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore, _ _   
_ _ To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: _ _   
_ _ First, however slyly the poison tries to hide _ _   
_ _ You will always find some on nettle wine's left side; _ _   
_ _ Second, different are those who stand at either end, _ _   
_ _ But if you would move onward, neither is your friend; _ _   
_ _ Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, _ _   
_ _ Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; _ _   
_ _ Fourth, the second left and the second on the right _ _   
_ __ Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

“Brilliant,” Hermione said, making Harry jump. “This isn’t magic! It’s logic, a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards alive don’t have an ounce of logic. They would be stuck here forever.” 

“But what about us?” Harry asked. 

“We’ll be fine,” she said, pulling out her notes to scribble on them as she thought. “Thankfully, you came prepared. It will be easy with paper, to keep track of everything.” 

She scribbled for a moment, glancing between bottles, the letter, and the paper. Then, what only felt like seconds later, she pointed her quill at the smallest of the bottles. “There. That one will get you through the black flames and toward the Stone, but…” 

They both looked at the bottle as Harry picked it up. There was barely even one swallow. Only enough for one person. But, Harry thought as he uncorked the bottle, he supposed he never planned on letting Hermione come will him to face this stranger. Before Hermione could stop him, he downed the rest of the contents. 

“Harry!” she gasped. “What are you doing?!” 

“You know which one will get you back through the purple flames, right?” Harry only waited for her shaky nod before continuing. “Then drink it. Go back and get Ron. You can use the broom from the key room to get out. If you go straight to the owlery, you can send Hedwig to my parents. Papa will get Dumbledore to come to the school. Whoever is behind those flames… I can hold them off, but only for a little while.” 

“But Harry, what if it’s You-Know-Who?” 

Harry only smiled, and turned to run through the dark flames. 


	15. The Philosopher's Stone

Harry wasn’t sure who he had been expecting, but it definitely hadn’t been Quirrell. But there he was, the stuttering teacher, standing in the center of the room in front of a massive mirror. The defense professor caught Harry’s eye in the reflection, and gave a dark smile. 

“Potter,” Quirrell said, much to calm for being caught. “I was wondering whether you would be coming after me. I hear you’ve been asking questions.” 

“I’m not Potter anymore,” Harry shot back, keeping his guard up as he carefully looked around the room for the Stone. Could it be inside the mirror? “I’m Alistair now.” 

“Yes, I suppose you would fit in with that nest of fools. But I haven’t the time to play with you.” With a flick of Quirrell’s wrist, ropes sprang from the ground, and wrapped around Harry in rough knots. “Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to figure out this rather interesting mirror. It’s the key to finding the Stone, and of course Dumbledore came up with something like this. But he’s in London. I’ll be long gone before he thinks about returning to the school.” 

As much as Harry didn’t trust crazy old man Dumbledore, Harry knew the old man coming back would be his best bet at stopping Quirrell. Without the stuttering facade, though, Harry could see that the man liked to talk. If he kept him talking, maybe, just maybe, he could distract him just enough time for someone to come down after him. Maybe Snape or McGonagall would catch Hermione and Ron on their way to the owelry. 

“You tried to kill me,” Harry said sharply, hoping his hunch was right. “At my first Quidditch match. Hermione and Ron thought it was Snape-” 

“Severus?” Quirrell laughed, cold and sharp, a haunting change from the usual quivering treble Harry was used to hearing. “Yes, I suppose he does seem the type, doesn’t he? With his usual swooping around like an overgrown bat, no one would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell. But I must say, I would have succeeded that day if not for your friend, Miss Granger. Had she not accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape, I could have gotten you off that broom with just a few more seconds. I would have managed sooner if not for Snape muttering a countercurse, trying to save you.” 

“You let the troll in to, didn’t you?” Harry pressed, watching as Quirrell went around to the back of the mirror. “On Halloween.” 

“Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls. Surely you saw what I did to the one in the chamber back there. Unfortunately, while everyone was running around looking for it, Snape already suspected me. He went straight to the third floor to head me off. So, not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, but that three headed dog didn’t even manage to bite off Snape’s leg properly.” 

“Snape suspected you all along. He’ll know what you’re trying to do.” 

“Yet, you’re the one here,” Quirrell said, a nasty smile in place as he came back around the mirror. “You’ve become quite his favorite little student. You do well enough in potions, and if you managed to complete that ridiculous riddle so easily, he must have been teaching you something else in those secret little sessions with him. I can’t imagine why. You’re the spitting image of your father. They went to school together. Loathed each other.” 

Harry tried to think. He was running out of ideas. What to say? What could distract Quirrell long enough for someone to come for them? 

“I see the Stone,” Quirrell mused, eying himself in the mirror. “I’m presenting it to my master… but where is it? I don’t understand. Is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?” 

The mirror, Harry thought, looking over at the pane of glass. At the top was a string of nonsense.  _ Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi _ . Was it another language? No, Harry thought, closing his eyes to figure it out. An anagram? A code? Backwards? Yes! Backwards!  _ I show not your face but your hearts Desire. _

“What does this mirror do?” Quirrell called, just as Harry figured out the Mirror. “How does it work? Help me, Master!” 

Then, to Harry’s shock, a voice answered. But not from somewhere else in the room, but seemingly from Quirrell himself. A low hissing growl that made Harry’s bone chill and tremble. 

“Use the boy… Use the boy…” 

Instantly, Quirrell rounded on him. He clapped his hands, and the ropes were tugging Harry in front of the mirror. Harry nearly fell over, a little dizzy from whiplash, as he blinked at his own reflection. 

“Look into the mirror,” Quirrell demanded, eyes narrowed. “And tell me what you see.” 

The ropes dropped, letting Harry step in front of the mirror, as Quirrell hovered in the background. And, as Harry tried to steel his nerves, he watched his reflection smile. It put its hand into its pocket, and pulled out a deep, blood red stone, just a bit bigger then a golf ball. His reflection winked, and slipped the stone back into its pocket. But as the red stone disappeared from sight, Harry felt a weight settle into his own, very real, pocket. 

He had the Stone… 

“Well?” Quirrell said impatiently. “What do you see?” 

“I’m with my family,” Harry said, voice shaking. “I’ve gone home, and Mama hugging me. Everyone is there. All my siblings and cousins. They’re welcoming me back.” 

“You’re just a child.” With a curse, Quirrell strode back to stand before the mirror, making Harry scramble out of the way. 

He didn’t make more then five steps back before the hissing voice filled the air again. This time, it definitely came from Quirrell, even though the man’s lips didn’t move. 

“He lies… He lies…” 

“Potter,” Quirrell shouted. “Come back here! Tell me the truth! What did you see?” 

Harry took a deep breath, ready to make a break for it. He had to run. Maybe he could make it back through the flames and to the room with the potions. Hermione would have left a note, to tell him which potion would let him through the purple flames. If he hurried, he could grab it, drink some, and take it with him over the flames. Then he could leave Quirrell trapped in Snape's room. 

But when Harry went to move, he found that he couldn’t. Fear had settled in, rooting him in place to watch the scene unfold. 

“Let me speak to him… face to face…” 

“But Master, you are not strong enough!” 

“I have strength enough… for this…” 

Slowly, Quirrell reached up, and started to unwrap his turban. Harry watched in horror as it fell away and Quirrell turned to face away from him. There, on the back of Quirrell’s head, was a face. It was chalk white, with red eyes that pierced into him with a glare. 

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort whispered, and Harry trembled as he realized who he was speaking to. “See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapor. I have form only when I share another’s body. But there will always be those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks. You saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest. But once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. Now… Why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?” 

Finally managing to unroot his feet, Harry stumbled backward, landing on his rear by a torch pole lamp. 

“Don’t be a fool,” Voldemort snarled. “Better save your own life and join me. Or you’ll meet the same end as your parents. They died begging me for mercy. Or maybe like the Alistair's and Prewett’s. They refused to join me, but were begging forgiveness as I killed them.” 

The Alistair’s? The Prewett’s? Papa and Mama’s parents? Voldemort had killed them? But Harry knew that Voldemort was lying. Even if he had killed them, his missing grandparents would never have begged a man as vile as Voldemort for forgiveness. 

“Liar,” Harry snarled back, scrambling up and knocking over the torch. He sprang for the flaming door, ignoring Voldemort’s shout. 

“Seize him!” 

Before Harry could reach the door, Quirrell’s hand closed around his wrist. A sharp, needle like pain shot through Harry’s scar, and he let out a strangled yell as he tried to pull away. To his surprise, Quirrell let him go. When the pain in his head lessened, Harry turned around to see what had happened, to find Quirrell’s hands blistering before his eye. 

But all Quirrell had down was… 

Acting quickly, Harry reached out and grabbed Quirrell’s face, palms clamped over the man’s ears and fingers digging into the edges of Voldemort’s face. The pain in Harry’s head returned, but he didn’t let go, even as it was building up. Quirrell was screaming in pain, and Harry pressed his hands into Quirrell’s eyes to blind him. 

Light headed and shaking, Harry stumbled back, Quirrell rolling on the ground. Voldemort was still shouting, and Harry reached out for the first thing he could think of. Taking hold of the pole of the knocked over torch lamp, he lifted it over his head, and brought it down on Quirrell’s head. A shriek filled the air, and Harry watched as a shadow rose from Quirrell, who was crumbling to dust, and charged at Harry. 

But Harry was already falling, vision fading from his eyes before he even hit the ground. 

XxXXxX

When he came to, Harry wasn’t sure where he was for a moment. His head ached, but didn’t hurt, and while the room was bright, it didn’t seem as fiery as his last memory of being awake. The memory of Quirrell, the mirror, Voldemort, and the Stone… 

“Good afternoon, Harry,” a voice said from the end of the bed, making Harry jump and scramble until his back was pressed firmly on the fluffy pillows behind him. “Please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.” 

Madam Pomfrey, Harry thought as he swallowed. Hospital wing, then. He was in the hospital wing, in a bed with white sheets, and a table piled high with what looked like an entire candy store. Dumbledore was sitting in a chair by his bed, smiling at him. Honestly, the smile only made Harry more suspicious of him. 

“Tokens from your friends and admirers,” Dumbledore said, beaming as he picked up a box of Every Flavor Beans. “What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows about it. I believe misters Fred and George Weasley attempted to send you a toilet seat, but Madam Pomfrey confiscated it.” 

“What do you mean the whole school knows?” Harry demanded, rubbing at his head where he knew his scar was. There was a bandage wrapped around his forehead. “What exactly do they know?” 

“Just that you fought Professor Quirrell and won. Do not worry. No one else knows that you are really the Boy Who Lived.” The smile faded for a second. “Though, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want them to. You are Harry Potter.” 

“I’m not,” he said flatly. “My last name is Alistair, Sir, and I have a few questions for you. Like about sending me to the Dursley’s? My Gringotts vault? And that mess at the beginning of the year with the sorting? What about the cloak? Or maybe why Voldemort tried to kill me in the first place, as a baby?”

The smile faltered again, but was quickly replaced as Dumbledore stood. “Alas, I don’t have time to stay and explain. I only came to check on your condition. I’m afraid that tomorrow is the last day of term, and I still have a speech to prepare. Besides, I’m your your friends would be happy for a chance to visit.” 

Harry knew that the man was avoiding his questions. But, if it really was the last day of term, then that meant Harry had been out for three days. And if he had, his family and friends would surely be worried. He got up, though Madam Pomfrey got furious with him. He did insist that he was fine, and after a thorough exam, Harry was released. 

Gathering up his boxes of treats, Harry was more interested in looking at the tags and cards, finding out who they were from. He was so absorbed in reading them, he hadn’t quite realized he was walking by the courtyard, and Ron and Hermione were running to him. 

“Harry!” Hermione called. “Harry, you’re okay!” 

He grunted when she through her arms around him, teetering just a little before he caught his footing. Harry shot Ron a nervous grin, only to wince as Hermione pulled back and punched his arm. 

“Ow,” he said, frowning as he rub the arm. “Hermione-” 

“You worried us half to death!” she shrieked. “Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let us in to see you! We thought you were dying!” 

“Yeah, mate,” Ron huffed. “Half tempted to steal your cloak to sneak in and pummel you when I heard what happened.” 

Harry smiled, apologizing as his friends walked with him back down to the dungeons. They promised to go get his sisters and cousins for him, so he could go get changed. He was still in transfigured robes that Madam Pomfrey had given him. 

When he entered the Slytherin Common Room, everything went absolutely silent as his housemates turned to stare at him. Harry, unnerved, continued to his dorm room. Most of the boys were inside, all of them doing a double take when he walked in. Malfoy even jumped off his bed, eyes wide. 

“Alistair!” Malfoy shrieked, sounding almost like a girl in his frantic voice. “You’re alive! God Cerce, if I had known you were going to get yourself nearly killed, I would have never let you go!” 

Harry couldn’t help it. He snorted as he set his sack of things from the hospital wing down on his trunk. “Really, Malfoy? You were worried?” 

Malfoy’s face went bright red, and the blond was foundering, lips moving without any sound as Zabini chuckled. “Honestly? We all were, Alistair. It’s good to have you back. Your head alright?” 

With a nod, Harry ducked his head to hide a blush as he got his clothes to get changed. He had left the bandage around his forehead when he left, and Madam Pomfrey had allowed it as well. It was mostly just to cover his lightning scar, and it was quickly replaced by the coverup and a bit of magic.

By the time he was finished, Ron and Hermione had returned with his family. Nina went off ranting at him, stuck somewhere between hitting him and giving him a hug. Skyla was crying, and Jasper had took one look at him and just… hugged him. Marissa was crying and hugging him. 

Eventually, he got to sit down and hear the full story, or at least what Dumbledore wanted them to think was the full story, from Nina. Turns out that Dumbledore hadn’t been planning on telling Mama or Papa. Dumbledore had left London almost as soon as he had gotten there, and was back within a half hour of Hermione sending the owl. He’d gone down to find Harry, and Ron and Hermione were sent off to the hospital wing. 

The next morning, since Hermione and Ron had been sent back to bed instead of stay in the hospital wing, they asked Skyla and Nina about Harry, who still hadn’t been informed. Then Papa and Mama had stormed in, had Nina take them to Dumbledore, and Mama had apparently yelled at Dumbledore for an hour. Dumbledore had apparently fed them some lie about just sending an owl off for them, then took them to Harry to explain. 

As short as the actual fight with Voldemort-Quirrell had been, there was a lot of explaining to do. Harry’s mother, Lily, had sacrificed herself to protect Harry the first time Voldemort had attacked. That, in turn, put a sort of protection on Harry. It was ancient, lost magic. Complicated and to difficult to understand. But in short, it protected Harry from Voldemort. And Harry touching possessed Quirrell made his very being sort of… combust. Quirrell, as the vessel, fell apart. And Voldemort's spirit, whatever was left of it, was once again in the wind. The reason Harry had fainted, was because the protection took energy from him. He might of not survived if not for the Elixir of Life in the Philosopher’s Stone. Mama and Papa had been convinced to go and stay in Hogsmeade, at Quinn’s, until the end of term.

Once everything had been said, Harry was sent off to bed. Well, more like he was escorted by Nina. She was practically smothering him, but the other boys had the good sense to hold back their laughter until  _ after _ Nina was completely gone. Thankfully, Harry fell asleep rather quickly. 

XxXXxX

The end of year feast was amazing. The food, after Harry’s brush with death, tasted better then ever. Not to mention, Harry had happy to gorge himself of delicious food after being unconscious for three days. Nina started mothering him half way through, worried he would choke when he had a mouth full of his favorite potatoes.

“Another year gone,” Dumbledore said cheerfully when he stepped up to the podium after the feast. “And what a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller then they were when you arrived. You’ll have a whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty again for next year.

“Now, as I understand it, there is a house cup here that needs awarding. As the points stand: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred ninety two points. In third, Slytherin , with four hundred two points. Gryffindor takes second with four hundred seven points, and Ravenclaw has first with four hundred twenty six.” 

Over at the Ravenclaw table, the room burst into cheers. Students were clapping, slapping their tables and banging their goblets. For a moment, Harry felt several dozen eyes on him, and glanced around the Slytherin table to find nearly everyone around him glaring at him. Well… He had lost quite a few points on his own. More then fifty… If he hadn’t, they probably would have won. 

“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore said. “Well done Ravenclaw. However, recent events must be taken into account. I have a few last minute points to give. Now, let me see… Ah, yes! First, to Mr. Ronald Weasley.” 

Harry went wide eyed, and stood up from his seat so he could see Ron’s face. He had gone purple, but from embarrassment or from not breathing due to shock, Harry had no clue. 

“For the best played game of wizards chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Hufflepuff house fifty points.” 

That pulled Hufflepuff up to four hundred forty two, and while people did cheer, it was a cautious sound. Dumbledore still had more points. 

“Second, to Miss Hermione Granger. For the use of cool headed logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.” 

The Gryffindors cheered, but everyone was holding their breath. Gryffindor may have four hundred fifty two points now, but Dumbledore would surely give Harry points. Would it be enough to pull Slytherin ahead of Gryffindor, though? 

“Third, to Mr. Harrison Alistair. For pure nerve, outstanding courage, and admirable ambition, I award Slytherin house… Sixty points.” 

The room went absolutely insane. Gryffindors were groaning but clapping, and Slytherin’s were cheering wildly. Nina was hugging Harry and people were clapping him on the back. The banners overhead, which had been changing with each house that took the lead, changed from scarlet and gold to green and silver. At the head table, all the heads of houses were shaking hands, and Harry was sure he saw a few galleons being passed between Sprout and Flitwick. 

Grades came out, before they boarded the train. Harry had done pretty well, and so had Ron, though Hermione had the best grades out of all the first years. They compared while they were riding the carriages to the train. Harry waved his friends and housemates goodbye at the platform, as he followed Nina and Skyla to where Mama and Papa were waiting off to the side. 

“Harry,” Mama breathed as she pulled him into a hug. “You’re safe…”

“Yeah,” Harry said, hugging her back. 

She pulled back, smiling at him as she smoothed a hand over his hair. “Did you have fun at school?” 

“I did, Mama,” Harry told her, grinning. “I even got the points Slytherin the points it needed to get the house cup!” 

“You did?” Mama asked, smiling as she took his hand to Apparate. “Why don’t you tell me all about the year when we get home.” 

Home, Harry thought. Yeah, he was ready to go home. It had been an exhausting year. Fun, but still exhausting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for book one! Of all the ones I've gotten done so far, I think this one was okay, but not really the best. Chamber of Secret's is my favorite so far, but who knows! I'm starting working on Goblet of Fire soon, so that might change.   
> Anyway! What was your guy's favorite part of my changed Philosopher's Stone? And what are you guys most looking forward to in Chamber of Secret's?


End file.
